I wrote this poem for my grandfather.

———
Perhaps the citrus sunset

brought you to my table.

You peeled an orange,

skin all in one piece.

You handed me a naked half.

Eat, you said, eat.

Now you offer sweetness

to wash away my sorrow

that you died before

we shared another orange.

By Nolcha Fox

From: United States

Website: https://bit.ly/3bT9tYu

Twitter: NolchaF

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