Flawless

To begin with just knowing you were there in my fruit bowl was pleasure enough. There was no need of touch. For days I wanted nothing more than your heady orange presence. There was always going to be that moment though when I would reach for you.

And so it was. Finally. And in the eating, you were so many things. But most of all, you were willing. It was as if you wanted to hasten your own emptiness. You melted easily onto my teaspoon. I remember you creamy yet like a finely grained custard with mellow tropical overtones. Less than sweet with a faint tropical fragrance. Your touch on my palate was so light as to feel almost a tease. I can barely tell where discovering you came to an end and being forever devoted to you began. It matters little. All you need know is that, as flawless persimmons go, you were my first.