The lush mango tree in blooming youth
dances to the whispers of summer breeze,
I remember grandpa's sheer joy in his eyes
bubbling a world of stories as he'd planted it.
His love and fatherly care in those sprouts
made green leaves drip shimmering kindness
on moonless nights, wrapped in mystic blankets
as he taught me folk songs playing his flute.
Ten years later, the mango tree reminds me
his kindness, love and grace in strength
to be sprinkled in a world without him
ripe sweet mangoes gifts bestowed on me.
A glimpse of white clouds peeping through leaves
swaying with wind seems like his symphony
dancing on flute echoing folk songs in my memory.
A tender shade of tranquility in my life,
grandpa remains with me in a mortal world
cocooned in the branches of his old tree.
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