Closing my eyes I can still see the sun.
Soaking my eyelids with blends of
tangerine, pastel orange,
hints of pumpkin and marigold
smeared on
dark, wet bricks
that construct my hiding spot.
Paintings of tangelo colored spheres.
Who put these here?
Facing rays I cannot run from
turning my body 90 degrees
feet sealed by concrete-
Who can save me, but myself?
My shadow in full retreat.
Rescue me. Caress me. Revive me.
Then bathe me in what humans call
Orange juice,
so that one day
I too can become a cutie.

by. Philip G. Steverson