Lemons

Don’t be a fool for the color seems tangy,

Mistake the coarseness for naturally bestowed smooth,

Simple yet expensive, a luxury thought of.

And a delight for those palatable skill that which food is creation.

But I do not speak of that is bound eaten.

I yearned for its oddity, displayed.

A few consider some adjective to praise on.

Suffice; I am but somebody allegorically as explained.

Supple and sweet your affection, bright yellow.

Even those unblessed with sight, smiles.

That’d seem to come from its humble abode.

Flaky like snow, elegant among all.

But one of thought deem to query,

A coat of crudely fashion, I wear.

Of such expensive gift to know,

In its entirety, at use none of all wasted… No.

Saccharine in it’s ripen form; yet sour for a tongues delight.

Feelings that come certain yet toughened to wedge inside.

From all may think that embodies the whole is bitter loving,

But the complexity of what it has, a plenty to exploit.

What luck then I have considered of all qualities true,

To define, to know of what I admire from this petty yellow fruit.

That one he is maybe kind, yet one has to strive for the better part.

A grind too acrid, a squeeze maybe right.