MANGOES

MANGOES



In the fruit basket mango is the king,
Enchanting they look on tree when they swing.

Be they green, ripe or in colour yellow,
Fantastic are they to eat, when soft and mellow.

Drink the green or ripe mango juice and it shall ting,
As among all dances of the world Tango is the king.

Wow! How lovely are the swinging mango trees,
Come the spring season and humming are the bees.

None on earth can forget the taste of mango pickle,
As none can forget the hard life of spade and sickle.

Blessed are those by mother earth, who own mango orchards,
The gift of nature, in lab the saplings by biotechnology are cultured.

The bird Cuckoo is calling and trees of mangoes are evergreen,
The leaves of these magical trees are verdant never losing their sheen.

During the heat of summer, mango trees offer fruit and comforting shadows,
What would be a village like without green pastures and meadows.

Indian village life revolves around these mango leaves,
Women of the village make bundles of firewood in sheaves.

Yes! fantastic and precious are these mango trees,
Every passerby is tempted to pluck the ripe mangoes he sees.