My words hang on a lemon tree, bitter and sweet, but swinging free.
A crust of pie, sat in a dish, tempting all to try.
Egg white and sugar, sickly sweet all fluffed up with air.
A combination of sharpness, a ****, just a little icky, but veritably sticky.
Shove them  in the oven, watch them puffing up, with peaks all glowing brown.
(C) LIVVI