Though few and rare are my memories of Laos, I do have a couple which linger with me. These memories mainly evolve aroud my mango tree. I am not a poet, and I do know it. Nonetheless, here is an attempt of an ode to my mango tree. Satjadham presents: My Mango Tree You towered high in the frontyard. I sought shelter from the hard rain under your branches. You bore me tender golden fruit. I climbed high to pick your sweetest for Varn. We leaned against your trunk and shared your offering. You invited me to play every morning. I swung on your branches with Enn when Varn could not come out to play. You let me fall when one of your branches break. I cracked my head on your roots. We vowed never to play with you again. You enticed me to come back next season with your golden fruit. I run to hide in your branches from mother after breaking the vase. You secured me as I sulked in your cradle. I climb down after father comes to retrieve me. We sat and ate your fruit and I knew everything would be all right. I've returned fifteen years later seeking your embrace. I've hungered for your offerings. I've yearned to pick your finest for Varn once more. I've longed to swing again with Enn. I've traveled half the globe to be with you. You were not there to greet me! You were cut down in the name of development! You were replaced by a paved road! Why did they kill my mango tree? Why did they kill me? --- Hak Hpaang, Adisack Any comment? Please send them to or post them on SCL.