Growing Pains

I was planted in an orangerie,
With the right seeds and everything,
Perfect water and sun as I grew,
With the other trees “knowing” I’d be an orange too.
But my skin was too pale, my jewels too bright.

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My flesh too bitter to pair with ale.
And to the woe of my fellow citrus trees,
It is now painfully clear to see,
I’ve grown into a grapefruit tree.

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I’ve always been too sharp and fair,
Hanging suspended in foreign air,
But now it has come to be,
That they claim they do not recognize me.