Monday, January 16, 2006

Orange Popsicles

Crisp autumn air drives summer’s last sunshine away as we dance, clutching each others’ sticky fingers after sharing popsicles. Collected memories of childhood crackle underfoot in the shape of a newly-formed leaf pile. Round and round we circle, greens and browns, reds and yellows, using each other as counter balance; not worrying about falling in; not caring. Giggles turn into silence once you kiss me as adults do: sweeter than a summertime treat is the taste of your wet lips and tongue complete with the orange hint of lost innocence.


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