Mulberries

I sit under this tree, the name of which I do not know,

The shadows so soothing and healing.
Birds chirruping all around,
tiny worms nourishing on fallen fruits. 

The fruits resemble mulberry, 

Like the ones I saw on my uncle's

Neighbor's terrace when I was young, 

So young that I hadn't 

Started bleeding.

So young that butterflies were just insects
And Chikkus were just fruits... 

How I wish I was there!

On that terrace, my tongue purple

From nibbling the mulberries

Will the bridge I see ahead of me,

Take me there, where I want to be.

Where I can twirl and twirl in my 
Red long skirt, never to lose a step, 

The merry land with sweet ripe berries.