Lemon Tree
by Aya Zhou, Lauriston Girls School
Years 9 – 10 Written Poetry Finalist
The afternoon breeze has fallen too still,
The silent wistfulness smothering me,
Not a single rustle of leaves to be heard.
Dazed, slumped against a lemon tree,
I look up.
Like clustered grapes,
The honeyed lemons – a wondrous sight,
Hang just out of reach.
And so, I dream of taking a bite,
A bittersweet kiss, still lingering.
For what seemed like endless hours,
I waited for the golden fruit to touch my lips,
Imagining its weight in my grasp,
Its juice quenching my thirst as I sip,
But in my lazy nature, I could only wish,
The ripe lemons above are so easy to pluck,
Yet I lie in my unwillingness to move,
“I’ll wait for next time” I say,
For there is nothing to lose,
Won’t they come back once more?
Like the crescent moon,
The lemon tree will bloom anew.
Today’s fruit is not my concern.
I’ll meet them with next spring’s dew.
And leave these branches heavy still.
Now the only thing lingering is remorse,
For the only thing holding me back was myself,
The tree returns but never the same fruit,
And before me – like everything else –
The lemons rot.