Of Mangos

The lush-ripe fruit
Flower gone to seed
Would have me eat her
Peeling back the leather skin
Avoiding those too-tender spots
Calling to me from her stall
I pick her up in fondest hope
Sometimes it's a rare treat
Perhaps most precious of them all
Feeling sticky juices spread
So sweet my mouth explodes
Wondering what else merits effort
Overpowering tropical scent
One could revel in all day
Sometimes though it's not so sweet
Hints of iron in the taste
Dry and hard unyielding flesh
With strings stuck in the teeth
Still I remember perfect flavours
And wanting not to waste I eat
Thinking maybe next time
She'll be ready-ripe
Maybe next time again
She will be a joy to eat

Please link, don't copy.
This work is Copyright (c) Mike Fletcher 2006