My mind is roaming rhythmically to where the orange trees

have orange leaves and I can see the orange raindrops fall

yet miss a small and dainty orange miss who sits beneath

an orange tree beside the orange water and she wears

a smiling wreath of orange teeth from orange crocodiles

arranged in single file with toothless smiles and orange eyes

reflecting on the orange water staring listlessly

and wistfully upon the orange miss who first unwraps

then bites a crunchy toffee apple most insouciantly.

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Her mind meanders aimlessly to where the lemon land

erodes to bays of lemon sand that stretch out to the sea

of lemonade that feeds the fountains on the promenade

where carefree kids are licking sticks of lemon tooth-rot rock

and munching lemon candy floss or eating fish and chips

while granddads sit upon their lemon deckchairs in the rain

as nans remain on lemon plastic stools in bingo halls

then hearing calls from kids with lemon buckets filled with crabs

a boy appears in tears - his thumb resemblant of a plum.