A sunset over The Malecon
as we stroll the ancient brickway by the seawall.
I love how the orange sun, so many millions of miles away,
bathes your hair with an evening warmth......
such a halo......a glow.....
As your heard turns to gaze out to sea,
I catch a flicker of your eyes,.....
Endless chocolate.....that ignite with firelight and never chill........

We watch a ship in the distance....... while you gaze......
I'm silently admiring the pony tail that you've pulled your hair into....
It possesses a bounce, a life that is caught on the Cuban breeze….
Lifted by the same salt air that rushes back out to sea.......
carrying with it.... your fragrance....
....an aroma dusted from your bare shoulders........
and given to the world.....

Can it be that somewhere in the Atlantic....
some tramp steamer plows the waves
guided by a lonely, grizzled captain who will step
on deck and.....with but a single breath inward.....
......he will become entranced by those traces of you.....
carried to him by the wind........
an aroma that speaks of sizzling Havana nights...........
...strapless gowns around a roulette table........
a milky fragrance wafting from beach side cabanas by day.....

We watch the sea splash hard against The Malecon........
and feel the age of the bricks beneath our feet......
....bricks once ruled by pirate kings.....and ladies fair....
I catch a starlight glimmer of your eyes once more........
....as I find your hand and entwine my fingers with yours......
and I know....If I were not here now....to know you.......
then I would wish to be a captain far at sea........
...............imagining you upon the wind.