“Citrus Dream” by Amit Shankar Saha

Photo by u00c1lvaro Carrilho on Pexels.com

I scrape some skin of wakefulness,
let memories diffuse in sleep.
I conjure up your existence
in patterns kaleidoscopic.

In the orchard of dreams I feel
your presence in bits and pieces.
Each peel a fruit that fills the air
but nothing’s full and no one cares.

Like grass peppered with orange zest,
that swell the scent of sprinkled rain,
all little things that I had lost
swell and come back to me again. 

I ripen like the rind of time
kept in the abundance of sun.
Simmering is all that is love,
and nothing boils and nothing’s done.