The sphere of deliciousness

Supple, though firm to touch

Heavy with citrus sourness


I chose it

Amongst all the others

Of its kingdom, genus, phylum, and class


It was yellow and fulfilled

What I thought a pomelo should look like

The form of such a fruit


I chose this one, though

From the others in the bin

Shiny from the water mist


Into my bag it went

Then out with was checked

Then borne in my canvass bag


Now it sits waiting

In my fridge, cool and dark

For a sour breakfast treat

To wake me from my slumber

To spoil the taste of my toothpaste and coffee

And to grace the dawn’s light with my happy smile. 

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