Folk tales and songs
Wash cold winter days from my palms
How I long for a different life
How I wish this life gone
Inside me, she snarls
Inside me, she sleeps like a toddler in a crib
Inside me, a lioness-
Who paces inside my ribs
Freedom is solidarity
Freedom is pure
But to enjoy too much loneliness
Is the devil's greatest lure

Spring blossoms hold beauty
but green leaves hold a tree's life
So don't seek for only beauty
when seeking a wife

Is a cactus real?
Or an armored aloe plant?
Don't drink cactus juice.

The sea that drowned her
Was now a long memory
How she loved swimming!

If I become a widow long before my death,
I'll be in Colorado where the mountains will catch my breath

If I become a widow long before my time to go,
I do not want my grandchildren to miss me,
I'll be in a cabin next to glistening snow

If I become a widow and begin to cry,
I do not want my children to worry
because I still have a strong heart beating inside

I'll escape to the mountains in a cabin on the hills
where I'll sip warm tea to brush away the chills
I'll watch sunrises over the mountains as I think of my love
until I'm no longer a widow
and with him above

Spring is not the same
unless you're in Washington, D.C.
Not one Washington garden is overlooked or overseen

Pink cherry blossoms wave a sweet fragrance in the air
as their branches lift
We hold it in memorium that peace was a sacred gift
offered to us in the form of pink flowers from a country done with war
In Washington, D.C, the color pink means so much more