The Mango

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!