Dear Chestnut Soup,
I woke up this morning and stretched my arms far above my head, as I always do. I brushed my teeth and performed my ablutions. I enjoyed a delightful breakfast and went about the rest of the morning, unaware, unknowing, that you were there, waiting for me…Chestnut Soup.
When you were dolloped into my bowl, I still had no inkling that the stars had aligned for me, for us, for that one perfect moment, mere minutes later, when you would touch my lips, tantalize my tongue and dance your way to my belly. Your warmth spread through me like lava down the mountainside. Your cream and spices swirled about my mouth and lingered there, an autumnal explosion in its depths.
Then you were gone. A mere memory. And I don’t know when we shall meet again. But know this, my love, you were the best [soup] I have ever known.