A dream meets another dream under the lemon tree,
and fruits turn bitter as if they are angry.
I wear my blue apron and pick all the fallen fruits,
the one that has tasted soil even with such great height.
A fruit speaks to me and pulp sprinkles out.
You won’t believe the imagery
but that isn’t my intention.
As I reciprocate to the lemon skin,
my tongue walks back in protest.
I am crippled by a memory of pickles
where my fingers are soaked in spices
and covered with vinegar
women make me like I am an ancient recipe.
I crawl out of the skin of the fruit, turning yellow like a jaundice,
I am not a bitter fruit.
How am I supposed to be in peace?
There are lemons turning bitter
and I spoke of them,
this poems takes a different turn
it begins to talk of faith.
A dream meets another dream under the lemon tree,
they had a fight and my apron turned green.
If I am the fruit now, this poem is my skin
and what stays after this encounter
is just another citrus dream.
©Sameera Mansuri 2020. || Image and words first appeared on The Poetic Elixir.
The Poetic Elixir 
Subhan Allah. You write so beautifully.
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This piece have my heart. I love every metaphor here❤️
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A sour battle lies underneath the blue skies for the attention of the beauty in the apron. Lemons will use any “pick up lime” to catch the eye. But I love how things took a turn when faith came to fruition, things changed but some seasons remained. The blue apron went to green and that my dear is fitting, because your beauty in writing can make a lot of lemons look into envy’s crystal ball.
Such symbolism, you are amazing.🌹🌹❤️
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Speaking fruits, tasty words. 🍋🍓Sameera is amazing summer citrus poet 💞
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Hahaha. This made me blush. Thank you so much 💕🍀
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Beautiful!
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Thank you Shruti.🍀
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