My childhood didn't taste like oranges

It's hard to remember my father cheerful
He always came back thoughtfully
As if the sky had fallen on his shoulders 
 Sometimes he used to bring me two oranges
 Along with the daily bread
Maybe he considered this would compensate
The lack of a hug

Watching other children
Playing with their parents
Preparing them for life
That moment only the sun
Could wash away my tears

His hands were never mine
In the shadow of the moment
Only our common blood remained awoken
Thrown into indifference
I learned that a mountain of ice
Will never melt
Not as long as a cold heart
Is still beating