Orange Poem by Lauren Ruark
Orange
Orange is the color
of my blood which runs through
onto my skin.
I lay on what use to be a tree.
Something glistens and catches
your attention.
You hope it will not,
though,
you already know
what has been done.
Leaves shuffle your hair.
Looking down on you is not bad,
looking up would be better.
Your knees drop,
your head bows,
your admitting defeat.
Stars fall from your face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 10:38:32 PM # 1.0.0.1119
