Hidden in the branches,
From the heat of day,
Relaxed I lay.
Water flowed upwards,
From the roots,
To the leaves, and us fruits.
Then suddenly something trembled,
The leaves shading me,
Were removed from all around me.
A human hand!
“Ugh! ” in disgust, I exclaimed,
Wondering from where this atrocity came.
The phalanges came closer, and closer,
They twisted the stem above me,
Tugged, and then separated it from me!
There I lay, in the human hand,
And they examined if I was ripe enough,
They squeezed me, and said, “Darn, too tough.”
The next moment, I was in a plastic bag,
That jiggled all the way till the car,
In AC comfort, we drove long and far.
After what seemed like an entire season,
The car came to a halt, and I,
Was taken out, and put on a counter to die.
Perhaps I was being pessimistic,
But the next thing drove all suspicions loose,
Because, bada bing, bada bong, and I was Mango juice!
Dear shruthika, your poem is simple and subtle.keep writing. from a budding poet.
Sounds your age....yet fresh and juicy....congrats...and thank you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love mangoes! Sorry if you ended up as juice!