A gold washed reflection leaves me golden
and from her smile, I was looking good.
An impatient pair of feet continues jogging
with a long lasting smile loaned from hers.
New fruits on the mango tree of our garden
as I reached;
a strong smell of tea, cookies and faded wind
quite familiar as the daily bath
interrogates my cheeks filled with smile
for they are accustomed with a tired ‘me’
gasping for a mango flavoured breath.
I stood as a foreigner checked for passport
by the boundary wall of my house.
The gardener, the maid servant, my parents
all are potential banks for a smile loan.
The loan from the unknown girl
with the sunrise as a commercial adviser
proves public banks are still safer than private.
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