The Lemon Poem by Natasa To

The lemon in my front yard
hangs bright against the green,
a little sun among the leaves,
the boldest thing I've seen.

It sways whenever breezes pass,
as if it knows a song,
and waits beneath the morning sky
while quiet days move on.

The birds may perch beside it,
the rain may wash it clean,
but still it glows—a golden heart
inside a crown of green.

And when I walk past in the dusk,
beneath the fading light,
that lemon seems to hold the day
and keep a piece of bright.