This potted citrus, immature
in the hallway
at the top of the stairs
cannot yet bear fruit
of the literal kind
at least.

My mother-in-law, visiting
(last name Watson)
botanically inclined
as to its species
earlier this morning
inquired.

An innocent question
posed innocently
caused the cosmos
for a moment
to align—

—Six words spoken
A lemon tree, my dear Watson
and into the pages
of pun history

I insufferably

stepped.