Funny Poetry of Food and Oranges.
I poked my finger in the skin,
a mist of aromatic acid squirts in my face.
That makes me want to hurry;
I just can’t wait to taste.
I can feel the oils from the skin.
The firmness of the fruit was just right.
Not too soft, not too hard.
I can tell, a cup of golden nectar inside.
The skin was off, the slices were perfect.
It was worth getting my fingernails dirty.
I carefully separate each piece.
Ready to devour this delicacy.
I get up from the table in such a hurry.
To devour my food in front of the telly.
But, I tripped on the chair,
the chair didn’t care,
the plate and oranges, on the floor
in front of me. Funny.