Every so often I find that my slippery little mind
wants to lay hold of a new thrill or one of a different kind.
It's like a touch of scurvy; my mind-spine gets crooked and curvy.
Or is that scoliosis that makes me get so nervy?
And then... my lemon tree! How she stands magnificently
with calming leaves, those perfect pieces of fruit for me.
I approach her to ascend, upon sturdy Lisbon* branches I depend
to hold my weight. Climbing, I hope I'll never descend.
But even she has thorns or trials that must be borne.
"I'm testing your patience, skill, and resolve," she warns.
Now lodged in my favorite place, I've climbed to my secret space.
Against those luscious citrus drops I finally come, face-to-face.
What a marvellous sight; canary yellow, smooth, and bright:
two tear-shaped lemons. Just looking I quiver with delight.
Now I reach with an arm, "I don't think a touch will harm."
Closing my eyes, I squeeze gently, which only brings the other arm.
Outstretched hands grasping and with shallow breath gasping,
precariously perched, teetering, I dream of love everlasting.
Jabbed by thorny teeth, my hold is quickly released.
"I don't want to harm her," I say as I fall underneath.
Crashing, I land in downy grass, my backside soundly thrashed.
Saddened but not perplexed, I grab her trunk and hug her fast.
"It's Ok. It's Ok. I'm not mad," I say.
"Rest assured, my dear. I will come again some other day."
Rubbing my rear, I walk away will hardly a tear.
For soon I'll climb her again, having lost all fear.
*Lisbon lemon tree: Cultivated in Australia. It is a dense tree with numerous, thorny, upright branches. The fruit is borne inside the canopy. This is opposed to the Eureka lemon tree with its few, thornless branches where the fruit grow at the ends of the branches.
