A girl is a mango infantile,
That tastes in pickles.
A lass is about ripe mango,
That tastes in curries.
A woman is a ripe mango,
That tastes with its flesh.
At forties as juice and at
fifties
As jelly, she lingers to my
taste.
Even in sixties, she is like
mango-essence.
In seventies, as kernel of
its nut
She still tastes though
differently.
Woman to men is evergreen.
29.05.2001
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