The Evening bowed like roses,
And Bright the stars were hymning,
Wings of Nightingales jazzed,
From the Sunsets lavendar caress,
I met a virtuoso, with soul so sweet,
With rhythms and hair so fair,
She wore a vibrant dress,
Like the Moon wears the Sun,

She strummed her guitar,
Sassy and Jazzy,
Like a wand,
Like Shimmers, Mezmerize waves,
And sang some beautiful,
And quirky songs,
Sensuous as flowers,
In the wind,
Transcendent as wings,
Kissed by the Moon,
The Love that she,
is when she sweetly sings,

She painted warm and cool soundscapes,
Like a Surreal and cozy dream,
Sweet as lighthouse candles,
Along the shore,
Her velvet rhythms were exquisite,
As any vineyard and honey lane,
Like the luminosities of Moon,
They would wax and wane,

To have her by your side,
Is like gazing at Midnight stars,
With sweet joy and wonder,
Her being, down to earth and dreamy,
Her eyes pretty and blue as lakes,
That comforts ones Soul,
Crescent to crescent,
We felt so whole,

And while she sang and hymned,
The Moon deeply and sweetly glowing,
I've seen some lovely ladies,
Exquisite as honey,
But none were a finer vixen,

None were a finer, nice a vixen,
Than her in Summer velvet,
Her pretty soul and windswept hair,
I'll always fondly remember,

Several seasons have drifted like clouds,
And danced like gypsies,
As I sigh with wistful reverie,
Several seasons have waltzed and bowed,
For us like sunflowers to Midnight moons,
And a Spring blooms eternal,

To have felt heaven in a starry daze,
Is to long for it and her sweet caress,
In any velvet or shimmering dress,

Perhaps and absolutely,
my Iris is her majestic modesty,
Not too misty and just as sweet,
And the roses wear our love,
With all her velvet poses
Reynaldo Casison