The dawn opened its petals with the vivid memory of a dream
There were guests from the other side of the border
Their eyes looked tired, faces had the tell-tale signs of misery
I Washed their hands and feet
I gave them the most comfortable seats in the courtyard
I baked some fresh corn bread in the oven
My guests brought in their baggage, cane sugar made from the last year's crop
When I opened my eyes, there was nobody in the house
The oven was still hot to touch
My lips were still sticky from the sweet taste of cane sugar
It probably was a dream
It must be a dream
Heard that there was some shooting on the border last night
Heard that some dreams were killed on the border last night