Yet a bottle of Maaza can summon the tears.
A taste, a memory, a piece of my youth,
Of summers that taught me life’s simple truth.
5/5
Yet a bottle of Maaza can summon the tears.
A taste, a memory, a piece of my youth,
Of summers that taught me life’s simple truth.
5/5
But Maaza’s tang still carries me along.
Back to Grandpa’s laugh, the dusty skies,
And the simple joy of mango’s guise.
4/5
But Maaza’s tang still carries me along.
Back to Grandpa’s laugh, the dusty skies,
And the simple joy of mango’s guise.
4/5
While sticky ice cream made my fingers burn.
“Mangoes don’t judge if you’re neat or clean,
They just remind you where you’ve been.”
3/5
While sticky ice cream made my fingers burn.
“Mangoes don’t judge if you’re neat or clean,
They just remind you where you’ve been.”
3/5
Its bottles gleamed like a golden pledge.
Grandpa cracked one open with practiced ease,
“The taste of our summers,” he’d say to tease.
2/5
Its bottles gleamed like a golden pledge.
Grandpa cracked one open with practiced ease,
“The taste of our summers,” he’d say to tease.
2/5