An Ode to 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

Vegas Robaina

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

Vegas Robaina

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

Vegas Robaina

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

Vegas Robaina

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

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We will say thanks to all
As we pass St Lorenz
For this day too
Will not be forgotten