Mango of my eye You are the mango of my eye. I say mango instead of apple because you taste of a home to which I’ve never been; the island entangled in me rooted steady and strong. My spirit can’t settle in this land of evergreens and nights spent by an open fire. It lives with you and the ocean tide; your sun-kissed skin and hips swaying to love songs, my own brown eyed girl with melanin to match. You are the mango of my eye. I say mango instead of apple because of your warmth, more full than island sun and your body, the gentle give under my fingertips while your sturdy pit of heart remains. The tooth of your enemy can never harm you. They don’t know your softness is your strength. You are the mango of my eye. I say mango instead of apple because apple is such an ordinary flavour and even though there are thousands upon thousands of mangoes across many islands on this tiny planet, I need only one, so much sweetness I have to myself.