Darkness sips the light from the the lazy haze that blankets the Atlantic blue
My back to the setting sun, absorbing the tranquillizing hue
Songs from the blues sound in the distance
Even in Portugal, the Mississippi Delta rhythms find you
Not lonely, but alone
Enjoying a respite from the impetuous urban drone
Of the Megapolis Madrid, counterpart to Guadalajara
Supposedly some center of the universe, but lacking in Mayra
A pleasant change with this small town tone
With the blues piping over the megaphone
While the streets and buildings embrace me with their charm
It’s truly the human element that takes me by the arm
The pace and energy of the electric haired barrista
Apparently her name is Soraia
Making rounds between me, the college girls beside me, and the man writing behind
Add light to the sight of the grizzled traveler of red eye blind
But I won’t write of that kind of beauty today
As I just did such for the angel’s birthday
I’ll describe the billows of clouds up in the sky
The facades bedecking each cobblestone street
And the steel pillar of the single leg of the table at my feet
In order to gird my heart for reasons no one will know why
Unless I tell them face to face when we meet