I can’t wait to relax in the South-lands
Shinning like the sun
Playing in the shade
Laid out with fresh linens
Fill up my calendar with Latin honeydew
And mi Linda
Fear of divorce
She may tire of my strange
Until then…
I will make her happy
Mas mas mas
Floss every edge, and take care of business
I hold mi Linda most, she’s my witness
To what? Not sure
With me, curious always in town
Endless jokes, turn that frown upside down
Cup caking her buttercups
Buttering her biscuit
Praying to rub her the right way
She’s a subtle one, rarely speaks spade
In a positive way, or no comment
The best of women or a skirt?