Alena Orrison

The cold iron of the unicorn statue,
Lying substantially in my hand
Creates a glimpse into long ago.
Gentle warmth from morning’s sun glow
Grandfather’s face smiling and tanned.

Just out of my grasp hang firm swollen oranges
Reflecting the vibrancy of the sunrise.
From a bough Grandfather plucks a pair
And we peel them right then and there.
?I always enjoy eating such a prize.

Sticky sweetness explodes on my tongue
While golden juice drips off my wrists.
Songs of the countless birds in the tree
Melds with the crash of waves from the sea.
Swiftly the heat dispels the dawn mists.

Grandfather turns on the garden hose?
And we quickly scrub our hands and faces.
Grandmother keeps the house tidy and neat.
At the small kitchen table, I pull out a seat.
Grandmother and Grandfather take their places.

We bow our heads in prayer and thanks,
Then Grandmother passes around the plates.
Stacks of fluffy pancakes with homemade jam
With fresh bright juice and sizzling ham.
Grandfather takes a bite of dark purple dates.

After breakfast I help Grandmother wash the dishes
While Grandfather whistles and sets up the chess game.
Black knights and ivory castles calmly wait.?
I always begin by moving my pawn straight.
Grandfather lets me win and claim the fame.

On the bookshelf by the window sits
A rearing black heavy unicorn statue.
Now the years have gone by and been lost
Time flows as tears have done to exhaust.
My heart knows more than its value.