Under the Mango tree

One didn't have the faintest notion The slightest hint Of what was to come. A few flowers fell at first Feigning sleep, and hugged the ground. Looking up, I saw the branches tremble. What was there to fear? Then a forlorn little one broke away And fell – on the soft grass. Marvelling at the way the treetop swayed, I chuckled when a small mango hit my shoulder Too small, to take a bite.

Faintly, I heard the rumble of a distant thunder - Then dark clouds approached the skies rapidly Darkening my world, swift, ruthless. There were flashes in the sky And thunders loud A wind then swept across, chilling my heart it was as if my world had gone mad. I could hear the raging rains rushing up - Where would I go, to whom could I turn to? I run up to the old mango tree My old mango tree Beneath whom I grew up Whose fruits I gorged on On whom I had hung a swing and went up and down Swinging, swaying, standing up in the wind.

I shiver – I hug, press my cheek on the rough, split bark I shut my eyes tight As rain wets my face like tears of my old mango tree.