Hana And The Mango Tree

She climbs up high with barefoot grace,
A mango smile upon her face.
She laughs as golden treasures fall,
A child at heart, admired by all.

She once knew hunger, deep and raw,
Found tapioca near the straw.
Though sickness came, she pushed on through—
A spirit strong, and always true.

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Oh Hana shines, a light so rare,
With joy to give and love to spare.
Whatever comes, she finds a way—
She brings the sun to every day.

She plays with fire upon the sand,
A volleyball in steady hand.
Her team stood tall, they took the prize,
With Hana’s fire behind their rise.

She sings at weddings, lifts the room,
A voice that cuts through every gloom.
The guests all pause, their hearts made still—
Her melodies, a gentle thrill.

Oh Hana shines, a light so rare,
With joy to give and love to spare.
Whatever comes, she finds a way—
She brings the sun to every day.

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Her garden blooms with quiet cheer,
Each leaf and petal drawing near.
They lean toward her, as if they know
She helps all living things to grow.

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She keeps the crossing safe and clear,
As trains rush past, there’s naught to fear.
With camera rolling, she takes pride—
Guarding each soul that walks or rides.

Two sons she raised with love and grace,
One now grown, one mid the race.
They carry forth her gentle flame—
The legacy within her name.

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Oh Hana shines, a light so rare,
With joy to give and love to spare.
Whatever comes, she finds a way—
She brings the sun to every day.