When my soul speaks

She was not just a pretty orange to peel.Her vitamin c, drove back the mucus of icicles.

Hacking deeply like rusty faucets,

sputtering brown,

then yellow ,almost pasty clear.

She would not quit, come too far in the snow.

Open the oceans wide and you’ll find me.

In the arms of hope,

I’m finding my way to life….

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