Dis'pear'ingly Poem by Ima Ryma

A pear tree stands upon a hill.
I see it's filled with ripened fruit.
I have a hunger so I will
Visit this tree in taste pursuit.
I think it strange, no bug or bird
Is anywhere around the tree.
Oh well, I know I am assured
The luscious pears are all for me.
I find a fat pear on a branch,
And eagerly I pick that one.
Tree limb grabs my limb and I blanch.
Breaking free, I begin to run.

I glance back at that mad pear tree.
Branches are coming after me.