No me quieras verde

I hope you don't want me green.

You cannot have me green that is the past
I was not ripe yet but my passion vast

Green was my memory of my island
Green was the weed and green the garland

Placed on my neck by the vampires
While on Viet Nam the green transpires

Green was your outfit during war time
And green my sobs during nighttime

While you were doing your green routine
I was carrying your green canteen

Green was your hope when you returned
But mine had already turned red

And spilled on the floor and stained the rug
To ease the pain I took the drug

I became numb to all the pain
And stopped writing greeen quatrains

I did not cry nor I complained
But started writing red couplets

You cannot have me green that is the past
It's past harvest time...I will not last