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Apple Picking

I can in my dreams,

go for apple picking

but in reality,

it's custard apples I pluck

in the months of spring 

and when they are ripe 

for my tongue to 

suck and swallow all sweet.

I walk, in our fruit garden

with a long stick 

to the ends tied by a sharp hook

and my boy and my girl

stepping along, and both 

would in sport and spirit 

climb up to the tip of every branch

where there were ripe custard apples.

And, I stand staring to the tall branches

and the stick on my hands 

patiently waiting for our chance 

and we both were same every year 

but, instead of my boy and my girl

now I had my grandchildren

and a bit more of my trees

And again it's our apple picking. 

©Parvathy Ramachandran