Me gusta sopa, Y vegetales y pan; Con crema blanca. (Feliz)
Wrapped in black and white, Draped over shoulders alight, Warming hands, Stuffed in shirts, Paper cuts, really hurt.
Red fire boiling skin, unlocking the bitterness deep within, Screeching, breeching Battling way, Storm’s a’comin That’s what they say.
Buzzing of the bees, Flitting between the flowers; Delicious honey.
Breezy day in the sun, Waves lapping on the sand; It’s eighty-eight degrees and beautiful. Post-card greetings, From the land of far-far-away, Growing closer With each daily rotation.