The Tamarind of My Memory

The joys of summer
Playing outside
Still with me,
In my memory
Of the tamarind tree
In Dombivali.

No Tamarinds in New Jersey,
but Maples abound
A swing on the Maple
Serves for now.

This Maple,
Barely big enough to carry
A little person
Swings wildly
With every push

"Whoooooaaaa"
Cries my girl
Giggling, laughing
Like me
On the Tamarind of my memory
Swinging wildly

I guess its not important
The tree of the swing
The memory of careless abandon
Is what matters.