Persimmon

Stripped as a peeled persimmon, I lay pulpy and exposed waiting to be devoured or savored; anxious in mind and body whether I will be as expected. I feel my readiness, ripe nearly to the core, and thus concerned that with more time I'd spoil and be tossed as a corpulent mess. I can only wait until the time comes to release my most pungent flavors but in the most delicate of ways-intricate delicacies of molasses layered with a slight kick of spice in my fleshiest parts; and finally ending with a bittersweet core so as to finalize the taste, paying homage to my nectarous bits but ultimately rounding out with character, authenticity and a slight hint of longing. I can only hope to have been the most satisfying of fruits, catching to the eye, captivating in taste, and memorable in exuberance; unforgettable in experience.