AUDIO
The freckles of your mosaic culture
The suntan of your words
The smile in your courtyards
The waving of your orange trees
The bowing of your green hills
And your red-face earth
Even your narrow streets bend a little to me
And your conical hats
Filled with flavoured meals
Tip at me.
You handle me with your most delicious sweet mint tea
Your shadows grow on me.
Your slow rhythm,
and your simple life style
craddle me in.
Who knew I would fall for you
You, busy and yet lazy?
Your language is alien but you speak to me.
