What would it be like

the poem

Hiii, I went to a writing workshop this week where they told us to remember a time where we were in nature. In New York most of the nature I see are trees on the sidewalk and grass trying to break through the sidewalk. I’m always rooting for the grass.

The workshop reminded me of when I used to go visit my grandparents by Lake Victoria. They had a mango grove and coming from Nairobi it was a garden of eden of sorts. I used to wake up every morning and go eat as many mangoes as I could.

My mother said we lived in the trees.

I remember something awful I used to do is I would take a bite of a mango and if it wasn’t perfect I would throw it away. I said it was awful because I always felt a tinge of guilt throwing a piece of fruit that was perfectly edible. This poem was inspired by that moment. Onto the poem…