Do you remember how we run
from the Caribbean sun
to the jungle house tent
with the noisy moving vent?
We had a bottle of wine,
and a good luck table sign.
The old French wine
was pretending to be kind :
entertaining on the dancing floor,
where we moved in a waltz, fast and slow.
The wind broke inside
with the sand floor to glide on
When the sun was fading away,
it was late to find our way,
and we stayed,
meeting the night replacing the day
with the dancing sway,
that I want to replay