Last Lemon

The last lemon lollops high up in the tree.
She should catch her hem on it bringing home this fruit.

She gets her way,she gets away, she gets into the loop.
The branches want to sway her...want to hold her hand to suit.

The last lemon with sweet bitterness glows in her hand absolute.

She smiles as she deconstructs all that she is given to perceive.
Sudden seams are sewn not so tight...
She whistles long known shadows to sing...
Inhales her known beliefs.

I'm a lemon
Most days
With hems in shadows.

Somehow lemon but not last.

Poetry by jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 741 times
Written on 2013-11-12 at 19:46

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You have been up to it again! :-)
This is entertainment.
Of a high standard.
Thank you!

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
What fun! I especially liked,

The last lemon with sweet bitterness glows in her hand absolute.

This has almost nothing to do with the poem, but a tree in my yard, with leaves already turning, held one apple. The fruit was perfect, but out of reach. I looked at it for days and expected it to fall when I was gone, but it didn't. Finally, I climbed onto a crumbling stone wall and whacked at it with a stick. It fell onto soft leaves. I took it inside and ate it right away. It was delicious, and last.

I really like this is so clever and the last line simply rocks!:)