Mexico Lindo crowds my soul
A land where colors rule the day.
Its people have small hope or goal.
With poker face life’s cards they play.
The teeming markets brim with spice,
Chorizos smoke and maize abounds.
Its maidens soon succumb to vice
Of greasy bellies, harsher sounds.
A caballero plunks guitars
As heavy cotton sashes glow,
By light of moon with craters scarred
The peasants breathing slow and low.
Old Mexico is just a dream
In gringos' eyes used to the sun.
Sombreros shade the hidden seam,
A garment tough as whip and gun.
Mexico Lindo beauty carves
From roses red in blood of fears.
Its vision bound by wires barbed.
The rain is but collective tears.
I will not go to Mexico
To celebrate the day of death.
To graves that open, reap and sow,
Beginnings end like choking breath.
Mexico Lindo crowds my soul.
A land where colors rule the day.
Its people have small hope or goal.
With poker face life’s cards they play.
Liilia Talts Morrison
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mexico-lindo/
