13 February 2013
Walking through the crowded streets, Benches taken, no free seats.
Sun beats down on all our heads, Rising from our unmade beds.
Cramped yet dainty, life here seems, Architecture rises from my dreams.
Spirals reach to blue, blue skies, Nearby an artist looks and cries.
Picking oranges from the trees, Waving off those pesky bees.
Squeezing juice and drink it cool, Perched upon a bar-side stool.
Busy, busy, another day, Go about the Spanish way.
Another Spanish Day. • Opuss № I