I grew pears from my home,

Inside a ***, inside of my heart,

A Baby seedling;

adolescent stems,

To mature green jaded Jems,

Green and vibrant, plump-juicy

Lavishing my heart with beauty


So I gave them out, to you and to him,

My beige tote-bag filled to the rafter,

Thinking one or two is what you'd be after,

Shocked to find such a ravenous hunger,

I had no pears to no longer offer.


I tried to grow more, but come winter,

My pear tree withered and shivered,

I came to you with no pears, you were bitter,

So I grew opal plumbs in that same winter,

Thinking I'd be sure be onto a winner.


But you said you hated plump plumbs,

And that it's pears you're really after,

"If only pears could grow in winter,"

I would wonder,

"Then we could have our happily ever after "


So I waited till the dewy mossy spring,

To my pear tree did I most softly sing,

About a day, where I spent its jade gems,

Plucked right from their own stems

To someone who would appreciate them.