Lemon by German Dario Piedrahita Abdala

A lemon now rests on the cap of a wall,
having drifted from comfort of leaves and arms,
pulled by wind of foreign, destined lands.

The lemon is ripe, perfumed
skin holding golden juice, and
would have stayed where it had grown.

Its body, alone on the cap of the wall.
A planet close enough to feel the sun,
yet, in a different universe from tree,
to live out its life, then, decay
and be denied return.