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East-Latin Gypsy Princess
Cries crimson coloured tears.
Scarlet pupils spilt excess,
No hiding by her fears.
She never ending dances
A current ‘neath her Spain.
She darts flirtatious glances,
Through the ever starting rain.
With her Gypsy Princess features,
At South from flight to Port,
With scriptures that she teaches,
Give night a second thought.
(Her maple-drift floats skyward,
And landing where it ought):
In remembrance of her Latin-East,
First she speaks banquetious feasts:
It’s cherry blossom tangos,
Served for old-time’s sake.
The locals cheer ‘Salotos’
With elixir locals make.
(No conscripted accent)
Singing songs of native language,
Reciting every verse,
Her liquid knows no anguish,
Her blessing not her curse.
She plunders rhythmic fortune,
Allowing sound to see,
And copulates your show-tune,
Melodic harmony.
She’s worthy of her dowry,
A wealth of joys to share.
Made not of what is powery,
No cross of heave to bare.
And know that she will cry again,
A soulful setting free.
A scarlet sexy salsa pen,
Seducing all that be
To be.
xDamo