A Cuban Odyssey

The welcome party’s out in style, It wags its tail, it beams a smile; The cabs lined up are set to go, Resplendent as in a 1950’s pageant show. The air is warm, the palm trees sway, For Old Havana airport, it’s just another day. The road to town is just a blur, Of sights and sounds and images that stir, Of little children playing football on some dirt street, Of emaciated horses pulling carts to their own melodic beat. Of crowds hitching a ride, hands outstretched in supplication, With hopeful gaze and beaming smiles revealing none of their frustration. As the city walls draw near there’s grandeur that abounds, A little worn and faded but with beauty that astounds. A history of riches, an eye for style and form, With Spanish flair undoubted and charm beyond the norm; The cupola’s and palaces, some frayed beyond repair, A testament of Cuba, its struggles and despair. Yet the sentiment of hope is palpable, we feel it through their eyes, A little taste of freedom, with all this thought implies. A chink in the old armor, one not evident before, With Castro’s passing comes a gift - a slowly opening door. Let this be one of friendship where we offer them our hand, Not to change them nor to rule them, but simply help their world expand.