Soft Mangos Poem by James Fredenburg

She reminded me reproachfully
that she liked soft mangos
of course I already knew that
after being married for so long.

She liked them very sweet
which sometimes made me sad
because her life had been so hard
it was a small glimpse of pleasure.

I acted vaguely surprised
like I guess I was supposed to
since she thought it was just
one of my senior moments.

She put them in a bowl by the window
presumably to ripen in the sun
blissfully unaware of my dilemma
wondering how to make her life sweeter.