Under the Mango Tree, a childhood Tale

When nights come
We run around
We play about
We sing to the Moon
And she blushes all the while

When the nights come
The crickets call out
From hidden “shriekadels”
A fortress of hope
Portraying the beauty of the night

When nights come
We see the bats fly
In haste to somewhere
We watch in awe
As they fly away

When nights come
It brings joy
And much laughter
And what a relieve
It is from the hot sun?


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