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Caribe Hilton Winter

    THE CARIBE HILTON WINTER
I know she squints her eyes from sunlight straight above
as olive hands lay to her skin, as if in love,
just barely to escape the falling snow
she's gone to where the fools and rich all go
and lies out on the beach I'm only dreaming of.

She sips on planters punch, as gulls dip in the sky,
manipulating where their wings would have them fly;
in waltzes of precision, like the snow
they go to where they want their lives to go,
but never have an end, their love can never die.

Is this not Gods caressing--and the earths delinght,
His dressing of the trees in simple black and white?
How could I leave this world my heart must know
to go where only tropic breezes blow,
Though falls the snow from dawn, and through the winters night?

I surely see the snowflakes in the falling snow
each one is different from the ones that wait below,
just as some individual might be
a little strange and different to me,
but each is all the same, except in what we know.

My lady knows the sun will do her spirits good
and if she can be there, then certainly she should!
But as for me, I've chosen not to go--
to love each minute that my heart can know,
and God shows me the snowflakes, not the snow.

And yet, I wonder at her Hilton Get-away,
and dream of sea gulls, loose and in their play,
San Juan's become the place I want to go,
away from cold, away from gathering of snow,
and in her Paradise, she'll welcome me, I know.
© ron arbuthnot aka ron wilson aka vee bdosa

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