Why is the grass so pretty green,

Under the lavendar sunset skies,

 

Mallards dont seem,

to have many cares,

About how they are, by the lake,

 

How does a duchess,

Begin again from last night,

In a new corset with red lipstick,

Vintage as roses,

 

The melody comes,

Like mist through the breeze,

While youre doing other things,

 

Moonlit diamonds,

Are sparkling upon waves,

 

Pretty horses seem to gallop,

Like Sunflowers,

And fine ladies sashay in Spring,

 

What is lovelier,

Than a naked lady,

With a flower in her hand,

And a sweet song in her eyes,

 

What is prettier than irises,

And a woman robed in moonlight,

And kindness,

 

Love between women,

Is the finest garden,

Under the champagne stars,

 

To the nightingales and nightowls,

The evenings are mornings,

And midnights sweet jazz,

 

Have ya made peace,

With everything within,

The noonsun and midnight moons,

 

Waterfalls are nothing,

Without the fondness,

Of their ponds,

 

What is more natural,

Than damp loving waves,

Upon warm waxen shores,

 

Beauties souls get wet,

As much as their hair,

 

Her love has to be there,

as much as your love,

 

Painters are gifted dancers,

With the vibrant rhythms,

Of their hues,

This painterly hymn,

Kinda painted itself,

In a reverie in evening,

 

Her Beauty,

Was so enigmatic,

It flipped a dove,

Her loves so sweet it flew to the moon,

To glow in her breasts,

The sensuous garden of her bosom,

 

Accents swap kisses,

Like rain upon Summer wings,

Sometimes the silence sings,

to me with the charm of her sway,

 

A sunflower in a flower shop,

Misses the youth of its fields,

And dreams,

For fine wine gardens

Reynaldo Casison

'Songs of Pleasures and longing'