The Pear

The pear. The green pear sitting there.
Hadn't moved since I moved in.
On the center of my shelf.
No my sanity wasn't wearing thin.
I enter the kitchen to make morning coffee.
I notice the pear. The green pear not sitting there.
Walked by it every morning. No one had been over for me to see.
The pear, sitting two inches to the right. But how?
Had it taken flight, overnight?
I knew that to not be true.
The pear. The green pear sitting there had been moved.
If I had asked my "best friend", would he have said who?
The one that moved the pear. The green pear sitting there.
Or would he make light of it and make me smile instead of blue.