The Latino Question

Harps cling to clicking castanets, swinging Latino takes a flip. Acoustics aspire delirium, you treat me like Salsa and shake a hip. Rainbow across the sky appears, six years become a sixty more. Saccharine sweetens with your friendship, with good times together spent galore. Having iced tea on lemon grass; watching your graceful dancing flair A rickety chair sways my aged bones, finally should I lay my soul bare.