Your skin, the color of the early morning sunlight.
Your taste, sweet yet sublime.
As I bite into your flesh, I forget everything
just like how the light forgets the night.
Your tree is groovy, however mighty.
Your fruit, the dream of every honey bee.
As I savour every drop of your juice, I forget my name,
like we're in some cliché first love story.
Your seed, caller of more mangoes this season.
Your cheek, red, orange, sometimes yellow.
As I devour your entirety, I forget the promise of storms,
only remembering your sweetness from now on.