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Poem

Mango season, for us, is a celebration,
Our eyes are on enthusiastic elation;
In sunlight, they shine in golden green,
We children gather to witness the scene;
Though we have our mangroves, 
Neighbor’s is tastier; reason none knows;
As throwing stones at them prohibited,
And plucking these get us exhibited;
We wait for some good crow or parrot,
To push one for us as though some merit;
Bird-pecked mangoes seem tastier,
‘They’re God’s graces’, some whisper;
When one eats others seem to salivate,
To bite the bitten one, for our turn we wait;
Stealing mangoes is a childhood fun,
The owner’s dog chases us and we run;
The owner joins his dog and leaps,
Though within him childhood peeps;
Mangoes hundreds we may have at home,
Yet, each stolen one is a diamond dome;
Once the season goes we get gloomily shut,
Like the squirrel that loses the mango-nut;
Our dreams we cherish golden mangoes,
Sucking them merrily we dance tangos;
Though not thieves, we do good stealing,
Guavas and mangoes with no guilt feeling; 
If you too have been doing so please tell us,
If what we have done is sin, kindly forgive us!


14 June 2021

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