Nuremberg
Here I sit in a land far away;
from the warm sands of the land of floral
in a familiar chair from years ago
enjoying an old friend – Don Alejandro
In the warmth and comfort of the House of Habano
away from the cold winter day
The trek over was long and tiresome
But now I sit in Zigarren Himmel
As the Don offers me sweetness and chocolate
I watch the locals engage
in the age old game of war
moving pawns to protect their king
As wisps of smoke fill the Casa
sounds of the forbidden isle country
mix with the smoke
filling memories of years ago
Recalling my last visit
1845 is what the band says
Not the year I was here
but surely one to note
The golden “R” shimmers
in the midday light
Beaming through the window
on this wet winter day
Just as the foot of Vegas Robaina
glistens with oils and spice
Fruity nector awakens my senses
As I lean back in comfortable leather
The burnt ash rests silently below
its shiny brown brother of leaf
Warm and creamy cappaciono
compliments the aged and crafted pleasure
My head is pulsing with fulfillment
relaxed and pleasured
As the vegetable man arrives
To further entice, my already delighted palate
Robaina too, must turn to ash
But not before
rings of smoke
Engulf the seats
His ash is solid as the Don offers
More Chocolate
then sweetness
all wrapped in springtime blossoms
Perhaps this is what
the Don’s home island is like in spring
floral and sweet
with butter cream and spice
It’s sad to leave the casa
But more awaits me below
In the streets of City Nuremberg
With its sausage, pretzels und bier
We will say thanks to all
As we pass St Lorenz
For this day too
Will not be forgotten