In the golden hue of morning’s light,
Oranges hang, a sunlit delight.
Their fragrance dances on the breeze,
A citrus symphony among the trees.

Beneath the sky, in orchards wide,
Where dreams of sun and fruit collide,
The orange whispers tales of old,
In vibrant hues of bold and gold.

The gentle peel, a fragrant song,
In every slice, where we belong.
A taste of warmth, a burst of sun,
In every bite, a journey begun.

Oh, orange grove, in morning’s grace,
Your beauty time cannot erase.
For in your boughs, the sunlight streams,
Awakening our sweetest dreams.