Mangoed Promises

A slightly long one-line poem


Spring, harbinger, brings
The promise of succulent mangoes
Sweet nectar dripping down your chin
As you bite into the glorious golden flesh
And your tongue flicks around trying to find
And relish every drop of the manna in your hands
And forever unsated, you reach for the next, addicted

In Chennai, since we don’t have a proper winter, there is no proper spring either. All it is, all it will be, is the promise that mango season is just around the corner. The sheer variety of mangoes — Banganapalli, Rumani, Alphonso, Amrapali, Rasalu, Mulgoa, Neelam — wonderfully endless list, each with it’s own wondrous taste — it makes our ultra hot summers worth every minute :-)

A response to Kathy’s prompt

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