My one tomato
It was so perfect and round
Red and plump
I am not sure if it was juicy, with delicious, or not
It just was
It was in Southern Italy
That we had tasted the most beautiful of bounties
Oh, how they had oozed their vibrant life onto one’s palate
Slinking down the back of the throat
The taste, the texture
So favalosa, exquisite
I bought 9 plants when I got home and housed each of them in their own special place
Oh, how I waited, watered, and wondered
The first one, perfect, as mentioned
I picked it as a dusty, greenish rose colour and I waited some more
And it turned redder and redder and suddenly, a beautiful red
I rejoiced
My first harvest
My first, and seemingly only, harvest
What did it taste like?
I would never know.

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