The fruit brunch

Brunch tables are bedecked 
with sweet-smelling fruits
Out in the sunny courtyard.
An afternoon only for people
who are truly welcomed.
Sprouts beaded with dew sing
The Navel orange-like sun rolls across the yard.

During that pleasant day my gaze was caught,
By a man whose limbs were like
young bitter lemon trees.
He never turned to me.

While I had been absorbed in adoring
The guests departed one after another.
I just hoped of being left alone,
Enshrouded in the forest green canopy.

Since then I've been here,
Trembling with surprise and anxiety at your presence.
Dazed with fear of loving someone
in this deep crevice.
Day by day, on the quaint tables
I place my overripe fruit.