Baila

Many an ice cold Diva, makes no sense to me, when they sing Ave Maria, your face pale as the tide, a poem makes me weep, dream and ask why, can we ever make history, each morning released, like love we gave to nights, to seamen and Cafe's, stunned beneath the lights, your laughter a delight, like sunshine on the breeze, a taste of the sea, in circumstances we believe, but who makes us decide, demand our own scene, scream out only for Bollinger like angels released ?