mango [a poem]

A sweet little mango, perched high in his tree,
surrounded by butterflies, bluebirds & bees. 

He started out green and slowly turned red,
as the hot golden sun shone down on his head. 

And as he turned red, his heart, it grew soft,
knowing he'd miss the branch he'd fall off.

He liked where he grew, up high in the sky,
the uncertainty of falling brought tears to his eyes.

Little did he know the flowers below
couldn't wait for his arrival - they'd been watching him grow.

From afar they'd admired watching him ripen,
from green to red, his glow it had brightened. 

If only he knew how the flowers viewed him,
he'd know that his future would never be dim.