As I walked along a path of grass,
Whistling merrily so time would pass,
I happened upon an emerald pear,
And I bit into it, right then and there.
The juice trailed happily down my chin,
And led to a most savory grin.
Then when my fruit was all but gone,
A distraught young man did come along.
He asked me with such true concern,
If of a pear he, from me, might learn.
For he, in haste, this gem had lost,
A fruit he had for worthy cause,
To give to a mother on her death bed,
For “a bite of pear” is all she said.
I, remnant core clutched in my fist,
Knew I had taken what would be missed.
I said no word, and on he went,
Bowed in sorrow, his form now bent.
And I then glanced upon my core,
Eat what’s not mine, I will no more.
So woefully slow, I walked along,
With no more life to whistle song,
Mourning my lack of natural care,
When I spied another emerald pear.