Our story begins on a sunday afternoon
Just between halfway tree and spanish town
Where a young boy
Not yet the cock o鈥� the walk that he would soon become,
Was lying on the grass and takin鈥� in the sweet and sensuous scent of hibiscus
That languidly lilted along the summer breeze
It was at this precise moment that he saw her.
Her walk was soft and delicate with a thaumaturgical touch
That only a rabbi鈥檚 daughter could have
Before their eyes had even met
Her luminous lips had already lured him in
Salvation winked with he promise of a briss held at pinnacle
And a congregation of sages bunny hopping and chicken dancing to yiddish mento
Then their eyes linked
An aeon blink
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