Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Of Spoilt Treasures

Ravaged gold that you are,
Attacked for your riches,
Of taste, flavour and sight.

Once reaching out to the heavens,
The wind threatened to topple you
But you hung on.

Now lying neglected and bare open on this ground,
Only to be scooped up by another pair of beaks.

How I wish you had reached your prime,
And then honoured me with that envious bite,
Before the parrots got theirs
..........

You were my grandpa's prized mangoes.