From Spain my ancestors come
Both on mom and dad’s side,
In Cuba was where they resided
For my dad, Sundays were special,
They dressed all nice to go to church,
Afterwards, they had an outing,
And lit a fire to cook their lunch.
With his friends he bought junk food,
Then as soon as they had left
Went to the arcade in a happy mood
They would wear these funny ties
With a sort of rubber band
That would coil around their necks
And then pulled down for fun
For my mom, Saturdays were special,
She went with her dad on her bike,
The beach was the intended target,
A memory she’d always like.
Friday nights were somewhat special,
Her neighbors and her parents, too,
Would sit on the sidewalk in their chairs,
And watch as the kids played until half past two.
When carnival season approached,
Everyone practiced their dancing steps,
Boys hated the traditional dress,
But when girls saw it their heart leapt.
Starting in the same exact place,
But then they went their separate ways,
Both sides speak the same precise language,
But their culture differs in many ways.
