Forgotten Youth Poem Series (#2): [Le Mon]day
A lemon was found dead
rotting
at the back of the fridge
I thought we have run out of lemons?
It reeked
pungent tinge filled the air
Guess it’s our loss — I said to her
to silence
Do you think a funeral on Monday
befits the reputation of a lemon? — I jested
Ever so sour, bitter, and repulsive
nothing is excessive for a lemon — I scoffed
at her
We sank into the couch, Monday night ageing late, both secretly wishing we are it.