Sonnet For Gloria
A Sonnet For Gloria
My mother’s eyes of ebony, sparkling stars
Carefully, she paints her lips' gypsy red
A cascade of flowing ringlets, her hair shines from afar
Muscatels quaint flowers, she wore on her head
Her costume; polka-dot, red and white
To have spent more time with dance, her regrets
Her smell unique, perfume is there more delight?
With my small hands in hers she taught me castanets
A spirited folklore, so well I know
Flamenco music hath a far more pleasing sound
I grant I never saw a goddess glow
My mother, when she tapped, stomped the ground
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any revealed, beyond compare
|