A Lemon Yellow Story

Apples are the early birds Each pink and green mixed Take us, put us in place Yes, you are welcome Smiles the gold plated goat's horn The twilight cat meows I'll hold the apples Insist the maple leaves Oranges join them What a rainbow game Comes up the cucumber Amber light fondles it From the bushes rises the voice Why not me Looks up the fruitlet eyes Of the green pineapple scales Holding up its vibrant tropical flavour The horn is filling and collaging Won't you make the Ikebana The pattern on the rim of the horn Grins the stems and leaves Sure, said the tulip fingers A gentle white and brown goat Looks on from a small distance The stockpot receives the treasure Gourds grapes and chocolate too The tulip fingers hold them up to her nose Ah what a horn of an abundance Is he free now, she says to herself The teacher, a banyan tree in fact The shade of the evergreen tree Had healed her bleeding wounds Which she couldn't speak about with anyone The school teacher acted an umbrella Turned the venom a sweet lemon The regard had got converted into a blossoming rose The evening under the tree is starlit Raw green odours reach the lungs through nostrils The cornucopia smiling in her hands She hands it over to him, thank you The golden owl mops the residual daylight Fireflies weaving a lemon yellow story ----------------------------------------------------- 28 April, 2020 Cornucopia Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann