SPEAKS THE INDIAN MANGO

I love the Indian summer,
Because it is then,
I come before the world,
Attired first in green and then yellow.

First let me tell you how I came into this world,
The big hard mango seed is my creator,
At first the sapling pops out of the earth,
Very slender and tender.

Soon it is nurtured,
Maybe singly,
Or it may be,
As a member of a grove .

With good nurture and care ,
The tree grows in size,
And then people stare,
To see how fast it grows.

The slenderness gives way,
To mature with a huge trunk,
And grow and spread,
The branches and leaves give shade.

Then comes a time,
When the first flowers come,
Which by nature's work,
Is Converted into 'Me' the delightful fruit 'Mango'.

At first I am small and all green,
And people then pluck and eat me,
For it suits their taste,
In my sourly flavour.

I may be plucked green,
To be eaten raw,
Or come as 'chutney' a table dish,
Or preserved in jars for a long time as pickles.

The hot summer months,
I love them very much,
For the summers heat helps me,
To become yellow and ripe.

Then people call me,
'Mango' the King of fruits,
I adorn their palates,
All through the hot days.

I am loved the most,
When I am ripe,
Even sent abroad,
For others to eat and enjoy.

My story does not end there,
For my tree will bear me,
Year after year,
For many long years.

So you see,
I am the Indian summers breed,
I am relished and cherished,
By all who eats me.