Orange Grove

orange blossoms
scent the air
marred by the slight pungency
of rotting fruit
scattered on the ground

this was my childhood playground
where we played cartoon characters,
tag, and hide-and-go-seek

ripe fruit dripped
gripped in small hands
sweet juice
rolled down
already sticky faces

this was my grade school hang out
where me and my friends
talked about everything and anything

fallen fruit
was rolled
eaten
tossed
and occasionally thrown
at human targets

this was my little sanctuary
where I went for walks
and daydreamed

inhaled the scent
of ripe and rotten fruit
and soft petaled blossoms
were picked
and placed behind my left ear
always my left

this was our special place
where we sat for hours in the shade
and had our first kiss

fruit was shared
petals strewn in my hair
orange pieces
popped into our mouths
taking in the scent, the taste
the moment

this was the place
where we buried you
that solemn day

the smell of rotting fruit
hung in the air
sickly overbearing
wilted blossoms
scattered about
torn and crushed

this is the piece of home
which I carry with me
always

the smell of orange blossoms
and rotting fruit
sweetness
and sticky hands once juice dried
childhood games
and daydreams
so many firsts,
first love, first kiss,
and the memories of a lifetime.