I fear the day the ink of imagination runs dry
And memories conspire not to comply
For that is when I must die.
I fear the day the ink of imagination runs dry
And memories conspire not to comply
For that is when I must die.
‘Go on, go on, a little bite’
The wily uncle tempted
As she sat in respite
The crafty task unattempted
She stared at the little mango green
Placed in her tiny hand
Eyes curious and keen,
An unsuspecting infant.
Two tiny teeth on her upper jaw
And two tiny ones on the lower
She smiled with them at all she saw
And o’er the fruit now did they hover
She bit down hard and as her face
Wrinkled in betrayal’s taste
Her uncle caught her sour gaze
In a click of notorious haste
For years to come, the photograph
Remained in the Favourites pile
For his sly capture made everyone laugh
And her innocence made them smile.
Note: My uncle was in college and experimenting with photography at the time I was born, and I was soon his favourite subject. All my childhood photos were taken by him, the first time I stood up, sat up, me creeping up the stairs.. I was around 7 months when the mango pic was taken, the first teeth just out and eager to bite into anything I got offered. I could almost taste the sourness every time I looked at it – me in a yellow dress with the very green mango in my hand and face scrunched comically. Sadly I lost it when I moved.