And when I run, I look at oranges;

arranged in repeating patterns next to apples

5 rows high.

And my reflection looks for me;

as each foot strikes the ground

along with calculated inspiration.

And I see myself running;

with oranges and apples,

as perspiration forms on the surface of my skin.

And the apples fade,

and the oranges vanish,

as the cool window fogs from my exhalations.

And my reflection fades;

as my heart keeps pace,

with the rise and fall of metered motion.

Oranges

R. Rakwana