Mango Morning
POEMFREE VERSEINDIA8
Priya
10/9/20251 min read
Papa cuts the mango
into golden squares.
Juice runs down my fingers
and nobody cares.
The ceiling fan hums.
A bicycle bell rings outside.
Summer sits beside me
with its mouth open wide.
POEMFREE VERSEINDIA8
Priya
10/9/20251 min read
Papa cuts the mango
into golden squares.
Juice runs down my fingers
and nobody cares.
The ceiling fan hums.
A bicycle bell rings outside.
Summer sits beside me
with its mouth open wide.