Mahua’s home was a green-blue land
Fringed by the graceful palms
Of Goa
Her father a swarthy fisherman
Had no time to watch her
Grow up.

The fishermen lived in a colony
The huts sloped down to a beach
Of crinkly sand
Sand as far as her eyes could see
Through her wind-swept hair
On either hand.

Ahead lay the rolling ageless deep
That pulsed through her days
In endless blue
Her friend since she woke from her first sleep
Whose colours and moods she
Instinctively knew.

Fiercely hot shone the summer sun
Bleached her dress burnt her limbs
To the core
The rain tasted sweet on her salted tongue
As she searched for shells on the
Silky shore.

The dim horizon where the sky touched the sea
Spoke of changes to come she knew
Full well
Till then she must bide her time patiently
On the shores of life undiscovered like
A shiny shell.