Custard Apple

Coarse knobby pale green carapace

Hiding creamy soft deliciousness

A velvety fragrant sweetness fills my mouth

As my tongue teases out the flesh

From the many shiny black seeds.

And I am lost in a reverie ...

Of  cool autumn days;

Spent scrambling for custard apples ripening on the trees

Pip-shooting matches

To see who had the strongest cheeks!!

And then I think

All these noble trees and their humble fruit

Are so much a part of me

Just as the sticky gelatinous sweetness

That enmeshes the custard-apple seeds .

Fruits which were never bought

But which were hunted and fought

for with a wild glee-mostly after

a lazy swim in the river's generous waters.

Which my swimming-pooled kids whose joys are sold in the market will never comprehend.