Rota

Crooked,winding, cobbled streets,
Shadowed stucco walls,
Motorbikes chatter past
The secret inlaid halls.

Whitewashed homes, roofed in red,
Fancy wrought iron gates,
Small cafes, corner crouched,
With bars and tapas plates.

Sunsplashed beach, of blowing sand,
Chilling morning runs,
Cerveza, por favor,
Served with honeyed buns.

Full moon nights, made for us,
Dizzy times, a Spanish theme,
All alone we lived and loved
Within our special dream.