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Wednesday, 2 November 2011

The orange

Skin like a lunar landscape,
Glowing like a sun,
A stalk, as brown as a mushroom,
Hangs on to the tree,
An umbilical cord, providing life.
The sweet smell spreading
As the orange sways in the breeze.
Inside a new world is revealed
With pips rising like a thunderous rocket,
Up to space.
It's juicy aroma comes from the secrets below,
The juice runs down like an erupting volcano,
It's sour taste shooting up my nose.
Jago Truscott age 8

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