An Orange

A sunny globe, sweet-tart juice running down my fingers in
small rivulets. Summer itself, captured in a golden fruit, with
a tang of chance and unknown. The heat of baked dry long
days wrapped in a leathery skin. Bringing with it memories
of days long past, of running, playing in dark earthy fields,
toes stamping through moist dirt. Chances taken, dares dared,
and childhood joys roaming free of boundaries.
A sweet-tart memory globe of opportunity.