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.

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