The Spring takes off the Winters fur,
And its still and swaying trees,
shall put on their Sun,
And Moonkissed green dresses,
While the jazz nightingales hum,
Their sweet Midnight songs,

Her evening gown,
caresses her like a robe,
of moonbeams,
A kiss dreams upon her exquisite lips,
Short yet tall, and charming everything,
She could feel exotic love,
Wrapped around her crescent hips,
That would cascade sweetly,
Like Chopin nocturnes,
Whenever she felt moved to dance,
With a Ballet nostalgia,
reminiscent of Degas dancers,
Of warm, kind, and fine Summer days,
In the casual and lavish plazas,

With those sweet and exquisite rhythms,
Unwinding through her honey lanes,
She gazed to the Cabaret moon,
With her love within,
Longed for sultry and soothing hymns,
And in an exquisite cascade of love,
Caressed the cream,
and lavendar of her candles,
They uniquely,
soothed her Beauty
Reynaldo Casison