CORN COBS

We are happier now that we work and thresh
the corn cob of the past. No trashing.
We taste this corn in the present after smashing.
In our love, each grain has a specific flavor.
Simple pleasure of eating, no favor,
enjoying the taste of memories as engraver.
This crop of corn, we guaranteed,
it will be entirely planted. We guaranteed.
And in the cornfield that will be born,
having the wind sways the branches of corn,
we will see our figure walking and walking,
bringing back good memories of talking
on building our future, kids on door knocking.
We will harvest the new corn crops
and we will thresh the corn cobs,
planting each grain again, without sobs,
creating a universe of only dreams as our jobs.
Together, planting at the front house corncobs.
And also at the backyard more corncobs.
The birds, they will come to visit us.
We will leave them eat the grains with us.
Sharing our happiness, no discuss.
The birds, they will come singing in the morning.
We will leave them eat the grains, also their corning.
Sharing happiness, no discuss, only letting them adorning.
Our love is much greater having them the place adorning.