I live in Spanish Harlem
Where the red rose grows
In East Side New York City
A place painted by the night sky’s glow
The moon is often dressed in shorts
Showing her bare skin
She takes my breath away
When I sip her paradise sin
I’m taken by her glistening light
As I gaze up on her each day
I trade nothing for it
The life of Spanish Harlem way—
She can be found in Sunshine state
Or even live behind heavens gate
I found not one that burns me in flame
Like the red rose and night moon
That grows and shines in Spanish Harlem
I yearn to see another day
To laugh, dance and play
For life is unique in Spanish Harlem
A place where each night is never the same
Jobiranyc (3/29/2018
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC
I live in Spanish Harlem
Where the red rose grows
In East Side New York City
A place painted by the night sky’s glow
The moon is often dressed in shorts
Showing her bare skin
She takes my breath away
When I sip her paradise sin
I’m taken by her glistening light
As I gaze up on her each day
I trade nothing for it
The life of Spanish Harlem way—
She can be found in Sunshine state
Or even live behind heavens gate
I found not one that burns me in flame
Like the red rose and night moon
That grows and shines in Spanish Harlem
I yearn to see another day
To laugh, dance and play
For life is unique in Spanish Harlem
A place where each night is never the same
Jobiranyc (3/29/2018
