If a pear could weep it would,

cascading tears down its glossy sides.

The banana has gone astray,

jam grubbed hand plucked it away.

Moments later, a resounding crash–

the banana hasn’t come back.

No curved embrace furthermore,

Just one lonely pear in the bowl that’s home.

But what’s this–

some glossy grapes slide into view,

they tickle, as they nestle close.

If a pear could smile, it would.

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