She sighs like a nightingale,
Sensually with sweet jazz,
She has style and sass,
She wears cherry berets in autumn,
And sometimes nothing at all,
Besides her love,
She dreams of doves,
Like she dreams of heavens,
She paints in reveries,

Stillness is a bouquet,
She dances in a trance,
Stillness is a bouquet,
And She dances in a trance,

She sweeps the clouds,
From midnight moons,
Shes unique and lovely,
She feels the sonnets,
As she twirls her hair and hem,
She sighs with warmth,
Of hymns,
She makes a vibrant decoration,
And collage,
And puts her lillies,
In her lovely soul and vase,

Stillness is a bouquet,
She dances in a trance,
Stillness is a bouquet,
And She dances in a trance
Reynaldo Casison