Darling lady,
How did your Beauty,
Get to be such fine wine,
Was it the vineyards,
Where you would ballet and salsa,
When all was still,
The gardens where every rose,
Would blush,
When the exquisite serenade,
Of your hips would sway,
The romance of your Soul,
Kissed by midnight moons,
Your thirst for passion,
Made all the lovers,
Like the starry boats,
in riviera harbors,
mesmerized by your unique,
sweet rhythms,
Was it the paintings,
you dreamily gazed upon,
like irises gaze upon sunflowers,
like love gazes upon love,
within,
Caressing sighs,
Was it the bouquets of admiration,
That you dressed,
your honey hair,
With that kept your Beauty so fine,
The hymns, melodies, and songs,
That you waltzed with,
Like a ballerina gypsy,
in solitudes golden embrace,
And amidst the stars,
That soothed like waves,
Caressing the shore,
Darling lady,
Your grace is pretty and rare,
These days and nights,
Yet your compassion pours,
Like the Moonlight,
Darling lady,
Your sweetness,
is your Beautys radiance,
And its always been sublime,
When it lounges and dances,
With its fine wine
Reynaldo Casison