First Fruit

There’s a custard apple growing

On the custard apple tree!

The first fruit ever it bore.

I’ve watered and mulched

Since we planted it there

Two years ago, maybe more.

So oft have I searched 

For flowers and form;

A sign of a first fruit, fair.

But naught did I find

But a flower or two

That very soon wasn’t there,

Leaving nothing to show

But leaves, and so

I’ve waited as seasons slipped by.

When, to my disbelief

Hiding behind by a yellowing leaf, 

On the end of a drooping twig, I spy

A fist-sized, first fruit, fair! 

Perfectly formed and ripe to eat,

A custard apple growing just for me.

The first of many yet to come.

Thank you, thank you

Custard apple tree!