A Slice of Lemon

Stuart Watkins

A lemon slice plucked from your tree

floats on the top of my ice water

supported by cubes underneath

as my lips draw in a sip

of tangy water

thinking of you

Random thoughts

come and go with no direction

some have a bitter-sweet tang

some dance on butterfly wings

some start, fade, and reappear

each with the flavor of you

Dancing, oh how I remember dancing

sparkling eyes filled with laughter

joyfully gleefully owning the music

ice cubes melted leaving a slice

of lemon plucked from your tree

at the bottom