The immigrant

3. Lemon blossom

I loved to get up before the sunrise

To hear the prayers echoing in the sky

To arrive feeling the sun kissing my skin

That familiar noise coming from within

Being away from them was the hardest thing

My love for caring and what it brings

To look after them, all the hive

Broke my heart, when I was deprived

How I would watch the workers travel so far

Foraging lemon blossoms for their sweet nectar

I would nurture them, look after their health

For me it was them, there was nothing else

I loved to harvest, to collect the golden dew

Scraping carefully, that soft silky residue

Their job was to feed us, to pollinate the land

I would look after them with nothing but my hands

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