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I have almost forgotten how orange
orange flowers could be
how, when still attached
to branches of the tree
they can look so alive
unmistakably so, even if
you are just passing by
while the mountains in the distance
compete for priority among
your because-the-window-was-down
wind-blown thoughts
how, ironically
this wild medley of yellow and red
can remind you of freedom
or punctuate, as the case may be
the freedom that you fought for
as an artist,
as occupant of your life
how the mere sight of them
can be, sometimes
a celebration of conquest,
being in a place you chose to be
despite the knowing
of where you should be
how all at once
they can represent
something you both remember
and perpetually fail
to remind yourself of
something that used to be
as much a part of you
as falling short, as growing old
wasn’t.
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Calaruega_Flickr
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Photo first found on Flickr.
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If this image belongs to you, please let me know.

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