Waning Mighty Love for Mangoes

When it comes to love for mangoes,

My head to toe tangoes;

Stereotypically, I am a loud and proud Indian,

While raving about mango varieties without a median; 

Mangoes can engage all my senses,

So, shamelessly, I surrender without any defences;

Even when I was mourning my losses,

The peak of mango season was the one that eases;

No wonder! I was born in the middle of the mango season,

Or so exaggerates my poet's mind without a reason;

The stupidest of all my stupidity

Is sharing my love for mangoes with a friend of serendipity;

As he has travelled far chasing his dreams,

My days have become insipid routines of silent screams;

Never in my wildest dreams, I fathom;

My love for mangoes would lose its rhythm;

This whole season is slipping through my fingers;

As I walk through aisles of mangoes, his thought lingers…