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Ol' John's Apples

Oh, I can see it now
The neighborhood’s been talking about it
For two weeks now.
Spring sprang last month,
And so did Ol’ John’s backyard.
Looking through the knot-hole fence,
I feel like Peter Rabbit,
Peering into another world
A step away from paradise.

Ol’ John wouldn’t mind
If I plucked just one luscious apple from his tree,
Would he?
I guess I could always ask him,
But what if he says “no” like Mom?
I have to taste that sweet skin
With juice breaking through at every crack,
Begging to be licked off every finger.
He’s got plenty other stuff:
Tomatoes, strawberries, peaches and plums,
He wouldn’t miss just one apple;
At least that’s what Little Billy told me
When I asked where the apple came from.

It wouldn’t be stealing, Mom,
If I left him a note pinned to the tree,
Where the apple was.
“Thank you for the apple.  Jeremy”
It would read.  I’m sure he’d appreciate it.
I mean his gate is open,
He wants me to have one!

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