O, lemon! O wondrous citron!
Thou golden nugget of joy hanging from a tree!
A tiny mirror of the sun, basking in glory.
I pluck thee from thy tree,
O lemon.
Thou fitteth so perfectly in my hand, as if thou were made to sit there and shine!

I bring thee inside and sit thee on a table.
What wondrous phenomenon!
Thou standeth on the table, as if the remnant of thy stem were a foot!
A statuette of joy!

Thou hast goosebumps all over thee,
O lemon.
Art thou nervous to grace my presence?
I should be honored to meet thee.
To be graved by your sunny presence, and enjoy your gift to the world!

THUMP!
I drop thee on the table, like a rubber ball.
Amazingly, thou hast no bruises.
A fine suit of armor thy skin must be,
O lemon.

I gently thrust my blade into thy skin,
And cut a crescent-moon wedge from thy flesh.
I bite into thee,
O lemon.
What fresh taste!
Tangy and tart!
One would be brave to survive but one bite of thee.
And I am, as I suck thy juice.
It overpowers me so.
I cannot bear it!

Yet I am finished. I have conquered thee, O lemon!
I have braved thy challenge and survived thy quest.
I spit out two little seeds…victory is mine!

Another wedge, you say, O lemon?
How can I resist thy temptation?
‘Tis a sin to enjoy such agony!
Alas, we are all sinners.
I shall eat thee no more,
O lemon.
I do not deserve thy sick pleasure.

Yet your sweet smell allures me.
And your brethren grow on the tree!
They, too are an adventure.
But that is for another day, O lemon.
I shall partake of your cousin, the orange.

Farewell, O champion of fruits!
Goodbye, O lemon.