In the orchard where the sun does gleam,
Golden orbs hang in a citrus dream.
Their vibrant hues, a painter’s delight,
A burst of warmth in the morning light.

Peel away the layers, find the heart,
Segment by segment, worlds apart.
Juice like nectar, sweet and pure,
Each taste a promise, nature’s cure.

The scent of zest, a fragrant song,
Whispers of summer, where dreams belong.
A symphony of flavors in each bite,
Oranges dance in the gentle night.

Together they gather, in baskets they lay,
Waiting to brighten a winter’s day.
Symbol of joy, of sun-kissed lands,
In every fruit, a story stands.