This evening I can hymn,
The rhythms of her Exquisite Beauty,

It flows like the waves waltz,
and gallops like pretty horses,
To the shore,
With deep, sparkling, and gentle,
pretty stars,

Honey is the waterfalls of the Soul,
And when she loves me,
She glistens warm and sweet,

She is like Everybody because I love her,
And she is like everyone,
because she loves me,
She is like nobody else because I love her,
And she is like nobody ever,
Therefore her Beauty and its rhythms,
Is unique,

She could be on a exotic holiday,
And I would still love her,
For like a Salsa rose,
and Summer sunflower,
She exquisitely sways,
a feast for the irises,

Her Beauty glows luminous,
Like the Midnight moon,
And Within,
I gaze to kiss and caress my love,

She is pretty short, yet palm tree tall,
Like she is hymning,
To the candles of our stars,
Lighting moons for our infinite love,

Her honey tousled hair,
Duets with the wind,
That serenades our love,
and like the wind I love the rhythms,
Of her every curve,
Their enchantment and modesties,
And caress all of her,
From heel to cool and sultry brow,

Letting go, to love her even more,
With every caress of her Beauty,
And with whatever dress she wears,
She wears our love from within,
Like gardens wear the moonlight,

The rhythms of her Beauty,
Hymns like the Rain,
And is compassionate, nourishing,
and honey sweet,
She becomes like the Rain,
When her Soul is a Summers midnight,
And she feels our love,
A ballerina gypsy lighting candles,
Is the most exquisite thing,

She can groove to any melody,
And rhythm,
And with our love lounge in stillness,
And the rhythms of her Beauty,
Is,
nightingale jazz
Reynaldo Casison