Orange Memories

There’s something magical about this fruit.
For whenever I peel an orange, I think of
Christmas –
My mother used to tell me stories
Of how my grandfather would put oranges
In their stockings.
It became a tradition
To have oranges at Christmas.

Now, when I eat an orange it takes me back –
To my mother’s knee
Sitting and watching her peel an orange
Inhaling the sweet scent
With Christmas lights in my peripheral view.
Listening to Glen Miller,
My grandfather’s favorite.

It takes me back –
To a pair of beautiful blue eyes,
Smiling down at me
As my mother watched
The juice of an orange
Kissing down my chin.

Kristian L. Weigman

This entry was posted in Poetry, This Is Me and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to Orange Memories

  1. Great poem and interesting little tidbit to learn about you 😀
    P.s. I’ve nominated you for an award on my blog 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hilary Tan says:

    I just ate an orange and oranges are delicious! A nice memory of your mother too ♥️🍊♥️🍊♥️🍊♥️

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Laura Beth says:

    Beautiful words. You are so talented!

    Liked by 1 person

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