Oranges and Clementines

Faiza Ramim

An open window with wind blowing at the curtain with the sun in the corner and a branch of a clementine tree with three fruiting clementines and leaves on it

The morning light pours through the windowsill
creating broken fragments on the kitchen counter ;

It’s the beginning of September.
I think I can change my life if I want to.

The morning light pours onto the kitchen counter
And as i stood there, before an open jar of honey;
stirring it into my father’s tea,
a plain cup left for my mother
Hands reaching towards the sugar next for mine with practised ease,
I realised that this is what I wanted as love.

I wanted to love as a habit,
as a muscle memory.

I wanted to love without thinking about it.

To love because I’m so full of it I want to give it away to everybody.
keep it stored at every corner of the world and still be left with just enough.

To love and show it in the most sincere way I can.

I love you. I know how you like your tea.


It’s the middle of september.
It’s the month of epiphanies against the kitchen counter.

I think I can change my life if I want to.

Wring out the doubt, the cynic out of me like a wet sponge
And use it to make tall trees grow.
Oranges and clementines;
share them with the people i love, made so easy by the design of nature.

the light is just bright enough for the already vivid colours to turn fluorescent;
Startling you enough for you to give in to the illusion of an almost naive optimism.

This piece I share with you, could very well be quarter of a four-leaf clover
One for you, one for me
Until the citrus turned sweet from the honey of our words.
Until the shade of the sun setting on the languid afternoon matched the fruits in our hands.
and we head home with a content heart.

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