The
sun does not burst
Into the San Antonio sky.
Each morning
A Corpus Christie maiden
Strolls by,
Born of South Padre Islands shores,
She tends her garden
Of horizon colors.
Gently,
She picks a rose,
Kisses it afire
From her red lips,
Then,
So softly,
She rolls the blossoms
Off her fingertips.
Her
rose abloom,
The sun unfolds,
Its petals streams
Of warm amber-gold,
Upon dew-drop diamonds,
Like liquid
The new day flows,
A liqueur of life
For Texas Hill Country souls.
Cloud
slips of lace,
Caressed easily at her waist,
Only a golden halo ‘round
Her face,
So adorned
Comes the lady dawn
To these San Antonio skies.
I feel her warmth,
I gather her love,
In your morning eyes.
I hear her song,
In your wakening sighs.
I capture her bliss,
In your morning kiss,
So softly the lady dawn
Comes
To these San Antonio skies.
The
sun does not burst
Into these San Antonio skies,
It is a rose,
Meant for lovers,
Who destine their lives,
In a city
Where lovers rise
To be born again,
With new hopes,
With hew faiths,
With new hearts
Set afire,
By a maiden’s gift,
A lady dawn’s surprise,
Picked fresh each day
Then kissed ablaze
In these
San Antonio skies.
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