The wavering of our small sun, glazed orange through glass
Blushing mandarin-watery, when I came out to greet it
The greyest tint. The tiniest centre of our world—
I peeled clementines for you, before we both left
We came in the car and on the commute I thought:
There’s a certain heaviness in the city. A weight with
Both hands posed over your heart, holding it all still
In the suburbs it’s just a street.
Now in the building, now standing by the door.
Now stretching towards an hour past,
–A meeting cancelled with quiet unseen notice.
Now watching the light quivering
Now trying to describe the colour, only to come up short
Oh world. Why are the hours so few?
Could keep it in a photo print. Could make it my home
Could do anything except live in the moment already
Golden always looks too gold, if you know what i mean
Looks too cheap and warm. I see it every morning and
Every night, one special hour.
I could do something good with my life, instead i stagnate
I could be something kinder, and I try to – is it enough?
Instead of a meeting, idling in an empty hall
Looking up whimsy’s on my phone, chainmail tutorials
That tell me it’ll take all my hours
Do you have a year or two?
This is longterm, commitment
Said yes. The time will pass anyways.
Written by Yiyang Cao and edited by Yiyang Cao. Published on 23/7/23. Header image by Emma Li.