I suppose I heard it on the street. On tv. Someone called it a lemon. Maybe it was a car. Loving yellow, I looked around. I didn’t see anything. When explained that it meant something bad, something not up to standards, well, I just wasn’t having it. Not my lemons, my beautiful yellow friends. The color of my bedroom, my bedspread. The highlighter of all things important in every book. If anything, I thought they were more than special, these “lemons.” Braving all that light. I wanted to be that brave. Shining in a color so brilliant. What would be given so much notice, if it weren’t worth seeing?
It’s not always as easy now. As the “lemons” get bigger. But I think, still, maybe this isn’t bad, it simply needs to be seen. And maybe I’m not the beautiful glorious yellow of it all. Sometimes I’m the book, carrying all the highlighted words. Sometimes I’m just the table. Worn and weary, but smart enough to hold up the light of the lemon.
Maybe that’s too simple, but I’m not sure everything has to be so hard. So I highlight the words in my heart. Stand strong. Give me your biggest lemon. I know what to do.
