My Mango
Sitting on the shaded balcony,
I place my plate of sliced mango on the makeshift table.
The air is still and warm,
soothing my skinny bones.
The hum of cicadas is loud and passionate.
My skin feels at ease here.
But this moment is one I have stolen.
It is not mine.
It does not belong to me.
I lied and took it without permission.
But I will devour it and I will savor it,
just as I do
my mango.
Copyright © Darshika Narayan | Year Posted 2025
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