Like an orange slice.
Now blonde, now pink.
Each segment is single and unique.
Each segment is accompanied and tied.
All to form a single fruit.
How she looked like a mother.
As he reminds father.
Each segment: a time.
Chained together: a life.
Each segment: a soul.
Many bodies: many segments.
But how much material I meet every day.
Every year, every month, every moment
How much I remember.
Of course, those who love and those who hate leave you with memories.
Like orange wedges.
What time brings with it.
To feed and quench your thirst.
With acidity, and with sweetness.
Leaving, in the end, only the peel
One cannot exist without the other.
And they are never infinite.
Like an orange wedge.
In my space you have given yourself.
I have fixed myself in your fruit.
The seeds are sprouted.
The only thing that remains.
After each slice
After each orange.
And, they travel the time allocated to them.
As I did with you.
As you did with them.