The Lemon Tree

By Tashreet Kaur

with no particular season, the fruit accustomed the tree constantly. A jasmine flush with a viridescent blush. The prostrate sourness and subtle bitterness greet the tongue. A stranger to the sweetness its family renders.

He watched the blossoming silently. Reminded of the akin rooted in the soil of his motherland. Lost to a ravaging erosion. the budding ripening tranquilled. Yet the seedlings beckoned a rebirth in his being.

His tongue burned the stinge. His heart filled with the overwhelming ardent sparking out like rage. forsaken to himself as he recoils purity.

By Tashreet Kaur