Spanish Guitar

It s not that I'm against love;

I know that love is beautiful;

Though I haven t met her yet;

If she would roam around the rooms of my

Heart, from the lower rooms, the ventricles;

As she climbs the ladder with her soft silent footsteps

Meandering her way to the upper rooms, the atria;

I would notice her at first glance and call her by name;

You'd call it love at first sight.

Those who have met her say she hasn t changed;

They say she is wearing the same dress she wore

The, very, first day she was born;

The say she s full of energy and passion like her

Dress that is red like blood because

Red is love;

Red is energy;

Red is passion.

They say her smile is pink;

Her smile is youthful, yet, but bold;

Her smile is excitement;

Her smile is caring;

Yet you have to treat her the right 

Way because she is sensitive like teeth to ice.

It s just that;

From what wore the skin that resembled love like a wolf 

In a sheep s skin, full of envy and arrogance; ’

I lost the part of me like a child that lost his teeth

And wondered why he lost something he thought he needed the most.

I wish to meet her one day;

So I could witness what they said, myself;

I reckon that when I articulate myself to her

She would hold me with her arms and press me on her chest

Like a Spanish guitar and chorus my soul with her

Extreme tender fingers to make me a complete song, once more.