The Last One
As I look at you lovely one
With the slight blush from the sun
The touch of gold is the magic
That draws many to taste of
The lusious fruit
That could be tragic
If once bitten find
That the other side
Is smitten with a place
That is hidden
The other side is brown,
Soft, off scented, rotten
The last peach why
Did this have to happen
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