It's Not Nice To Eat The Last Bite
We had a Meyer's lemon,
Growing in a sunny spot,
And it was just amazing,
The amount of fruit we got!
The fruit was oh, so luscious,
Brilliant yellow, full of juice,
I'd love it, when on Sunday,
Mother made a lemon mousse.
There was always lemonade,
To quench a summer's thrist,
My brother and I fought,
To see who got ours first.
I'd really love the times,
Mom made her lemon pie,
With the lightly baked meringue,
She piled on very high!
Of course, I can't forget,
And I'd thank my lucky stars,
When I'd get to take to class,
Her home made lemon bars!
At the yearly county fair,
Folks said it was absurd,
She always came in first,
With her lemon curd!
The lemon tree is gone,
My mother bakes no more,
She hates the sight of lemons,
Flashbacks of bloody gore.
I was eating all the ice cream,
When my brother came from class,
And he walked in and he cut me,
With a piece of broken glass.
I had fifty stitches,
And our lives forever changed,
And what happened to my brother?
He is totally deranged.
Carmen Henesy
Copyright (c) Carmen Henesy
March 5, 2011
I am participating in Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales - check out the site and join in the fun!
