I remember the mangga days,
When we would gather, a family united,
For the season of abundance,
Knowing the mango trees awaited,
Their branches heavy with golden fruit.
Twenty trees stood tall in our yard,
And my father, a climber with grace,
Would scale their heights with skill,
Shaking the branches with all his might,
As mangos rained down like heavy drops,
Sometimes hitting our backs and arms,
If we didn't dodge their path.
Those mangga days were a symphony,
Of laughter and shared labor,
Filling sacks with the sweet bounty,
Feasting to our hearts' content,
And selling the excess at the market.
Though those days have slipped away,
Their memory remains ever vivid,
A time of togetherness and joy,
Etched in my heart forever.
(c) mnrivera
