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By John I. Blair

As my shape devolves to pear
I share some of that fruit’s
Ripe delicacy, easiness to bruise;

My skin, so very thin,
Starts to mottle at the least abuse
And blushes in the sun.

Alas the fragrance I am prone to
Would by no one be called “fruity”,
Rather “cheesy;” and cheese does go

With pears; but I think my inner sweetness,
Always there, has now increased –
And will until I rot.

©2010 John I. Blair

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