Old women in supermarket

She bought one lemon;
plump and juicy, it rolled across the counter,
golden on the black surface;
it was all she could afford
she would take it home, squeeze it, add a jug of water, and her supper would consist of that
plus some bread —she regularly went to the bakery just at closing time
and asked if there were any leftovers:
usually they gave her some.
She was poor, she came from a distant land
where no lemon trees grew,
instead, fields of rice —
until the rain stopped coming,
and there were no more harvests.
So she trekked across the hard ground
huddled with others into a flimsy boat
bumped across waters
until they found land —
many years ago, when she was young.
Somehow, she survived — people cared.
Now she is old, her body bent
but she finds some people — not many —
who still care