Its a rose moon night,
The lovely ladies,
Are over the moon,
With their veranda garden,

The lovely golden hair lady,
Has just read 'catcher in the rye',
'On the road', 'leaves of grass',
'Gypsy ballads'
And 'life of pi',
From one evening to another,
And is relaxing,
on her love sofa,
The brunnette lady,
Sighs,
Salinger was a genius,
Like kerouac,
And the lovely golden hair lady,
Says I would go on the road,
With him any evening of the moon,
But I'd rather spend the evenings,
With you,

The brunnette says thats so sweet,
Kisses her brow the way she does,
Since they fell in love,
The golden hair lady,
Drifts blissfully to sleep,

The brunnette takes a smoke,
Has a glass of wine,
Gazes at her lover,
Feels the moon,
Parts the curtains,
To let in the moonlight,
To dance,
upon the golden hair ladys,
Naked in sweet repose body,
And improvises,
As she paints her lover,
With her vibrant palette,
Of hues,
and love
Reynaldo Casison