MY FLOWER (a love poem)

Like a flower blooming
On a warm spring day
One glimpse of you
Takes my breath away.

The beauty of a flower
Innocent and pure
With just enough edge
So that I can't be sure.

Like a flower in the wind
softly sways
It's that kind of peace
That you bring my days.

A flower doesn't say much
Just wins you over with its beauty
That in a nutshell
Is what you do to me.

The warmth of your smile
And the shine in your eye
The wonder of your laughter
Your tears when you cry.

Everything about you
Just steals my heart
An ocean a million miles wide
couldn't keep us apart.

You bring me peace
In my darkest hour
You're everything good in my life
You are my flower.

by Ricky Silva, 2014

MORE THAN A POEM

Words pour quickly 
from the tip of my pen.
Thoughts that flow deeply 
come out now and then.

Like a wild beast roars
I can with ink display my rage.
Like a bird in the sky
I can be free of my cage.

I can show the pain
that is tearing my apart.
I can express the love
that lives inside my heart.

Imagine the emotion shared
in a poem unheard.
Yet to some minds
it's just a mixture of words.

There is darkness in poetry 
yet don't dwell on the sorrow.
For in the next line
lives the hope of tomorrow.

With my pen and some paper
I can let my heart roam free.
So it mind be just words to you
but it's more than a poem to me.

by Ricky Silva, 2013

3-D VISION

Just another day, sun shining down.
Birds wake us up, soft chirping sound.
We feel good knowing, we are alive.
But today one man, will surely die.

He lives and loves, like you and me.
He to has his own, preplanned destiny.
He has a family, who loves him dearly.
And with the pain of his loss, will suffer severely.

The man has done wrong, make no mistake.
He has left much wreckage, in his thunderous wake.
Yet like us all, he has good with in.
So which one of us, has the right to kill him?

It's a dark cloud, to live under.
When on your days, someone puts a number.
He regrets the hurt he caused, and knows he was wrong.
He is told he will die, yet tries to remain strong.

He is trapped by a system, that claims no flaw.
Yet they murder often, calling it the enforcement of law.
So as I watch this day, I'm filled with sorrow.
For the soul of one man, will be forgotten tomorrow.

So I feel lucky now, for each and every breathe.
As I reside unwillingly, in this house of death.
A man is murdered, it's 3-D vision we say.
That's how it is, on a Dirty, Deadly, Day!!!

by Ricky Silva, october 2013

TIME TO FIGHT

Throughout it all, I never turned down a fight.

I'm known for swift footwork, and my over hand right. 

I've faced many opponents, and never shied away. 

But I struggle with the one, I face today.

I am my own trainer, and hard I do train. 

I do push ups in the snow, and shadow box in the rain. 

But my opponent is huge, and undenieably tough. 

I feel even all my training, won't be enough. 

But I push myself harder, for courage I have found. 

Yet I know this fight, will come to the last round. 

I remember a past fight, how I suffered a cramp. 

I know I can't let this happen, against the undisputed champ. 

He is the most aggressive fighter, I must give it my all. 

I will fight hard and get back up, should I ever fall. 

I will bob and weave, my chin I will tuck. 

I will fight and fight, and hope for a little luck. 

The lights are bright, as I enter the ring. 

I was prepared for this fight, now I can't remember a thing. 

I am the challenger, yet on the champ I will pounce. 

The champ is coming, the man begins to announce. 

Ladies and gentlemen, he announces aloud. 

And waits a second for the hush of the crowd. 

You are about to witness a fight, we all must face. 

You can't run away, or hide any place. 

Here comes the champ, he is bigger than us all. 

He is tough and brutal, a human wrecking ball. 

He has a killer jab, and a hook like a knife. 

He is the undisputed champion, and his name is Life. 

By Ricky Silva, September 2013

REACH OUT

Imagine being so alone you feel you are surrounded by darkness. Having so much to say and no one to say it to. So much love to give yet no one to receive that love.

You want for a normal conversation the way a thirsty man wants for water in the desert.

You want for human contact, any kind of human contact to remind you you're alive.

A letter would be wonderful but it seems all the people in your life who cared have drifted away like a leaf in an autumn breeze. You recognize the wrong you have done and often blame yourself for how bad things are though you know deep down no one deserves this treatment. Not even you.

You contemplate suicide but somehow find the strength everyday for just one more day. You hang on by a thread of hope because tomorrow might be different.

I can tell you when I feel like this a letter alone make all the difference. So if you're reading this blog, take time to write a letter. How can it hurt? Even if you don't write to me. Choose anyone who is living in a concrete cage like mine. Write to them if for no other reason than to give them someone to talk to.

Open your heart and through you, you could bring the hope that keeps a man alive from day to day with only a caring letter.

Please be safe.

One man caged
Ricky

Ricky Silva DC# L24722

Florida State Prison

7819 N.W. 228th street

Raiford, Florida 32026

U.S.A.

______________________________________________________

REACH OUT

Beautiful colors dance,
across a velvet sky.
As a waterfall of souls,
waves it's good bye.

With a deep breathe of tomorrow,
we live on today.
I was told to pay attention,
but never did pay.

The darkness of the past,
is now taking it's toll.
As my pen unloads it's ink,
my life slowly begins to roll.

I flush memories away,
though some I badly miss.
Even in a picture perfect moment,
I couldn't picture this.

Stripped of all human rights,
though human we are.
Eating through a metal hole,
or between the likes of steel bars.

Locked away frozen in time,
sometimes even for years.
Laughed at when we cry,
for worthless are our tears.

The holidays come,
and slowly they go.
As we suffer a lonelyness,
that makes us feel so small.

We send out letters,
often written in our tears.
And may not ever get a response,
and this is what we fear.

But with that one letter,
in which someone choose to respond.
We have the strength building,
that will allow us to go on.

So if you're reading this reach out,
to someone in solitary.
Write a letter, it can't hurt,
even if it's not to me.

by Ricky Silva, August 2013

ONE MAN

Life would go on,

should I die.

Why does the world ignore,

a lonely cry?

Taking another step,

one foot in front of the other. 

Tripping each other for placement,

falling over one another. 

Like crabs in a pot,

pulling each other down. 

Laughing at life's cruelty,

when no one is around. 

I wonder if I'm human,

as I sit in this cell. 

The way we are all treated,

it's very hard to tell. 

It's the nature of the beast,

to treat each other cruel. 

One will be enslaved,

and one will always rule. 

We need to take a moment, 

to give a helping hand.

We are all so very different,

but a man is a man.

by Ricky Silva, August 2013

QUESTIONS

24 hours in a day.

Why not 23?

So many people succeed. 

Why not me?

Why doesn't the apple,

fall far from the tree?

Why does fate choose,

to play tricks on me?

What happens to smoke,

when it disappears in the wind?

Why do we all make a mistake,

and the same thing again?

Are people in general,

destined to fail?

Is life really nothing but,

a game of heads or tails?

Is it right to stare at each other,

with a look of disdain?

Should we all get pleasure,

from someone else's pain?

If I said I'm a changed man,

would you believe it's true?

While I am being judged,

is someone judging you?

Should we mourn a stranger,

who lies in bed with cancer?

So many questions. 

Do we really want answers?

by Ricky Silva, August 2013

GLASS WINDOW

GLASS WINDOW

tues July 2

Outside my window, when often I look.

I see so much failure, to many chances took.

I see very little sunshine, and a whole lot of rain.

I see despair and misery, smiling at pain.

I see a forest of hate, raw and true.

I see all the insanity, coming unglued.

I see a river of blood, with a current so swift.

I see a heart ripped out, presented as a gift.

I look out my window, and see a bird in a cage.

I see frustration and anger, even simmering rage.

I see so much, I have learned to despise.

I see murderous intent, staring into my eyes.

When I look out my window, I see the pain of years

and slowly but surely, my eyes fill up with tears.

Because it's not a window at all, it's a mirror, you see?

And all that's in my eyes, staring back at me.

by Ricky Silva, July 2013

STAYING POSITIVE

I stare out of my cage,

at the fences and wire. 

I was so full of fight,

but I'm beginning to tire.

I once walked straight,

head held tall.

But it's been a long journey,

behind these walls.

I'm not ready to give up,

at least not yet. 

But I lack something to look forward to,

and I'm filled with regret.

As I lay down at night,
on this thin piece of steel.
I get often confused,
about the way that I feel.

Sometimes wild forms of anger,
fill my emptiness inside.
And then there is the sadness,
that often choose to hide.

But with each and every breathe,
life will go on.
And to all the hate and negativity,
I choose not to respond.

I've come across a lot of wisdom,
but have so much to learn.
So if today it's not productive,
it is not my concern.

by Ricky Silva, July 2013

LAW OF THE LAND

Wandering softly,
through the forest one night.
I came across a bear,
spoiling for a fight.

You woke me up of hibernation,
for that you must pay.
But first I will listen,
to what you have to say.

No one has ever come,
and woke me out of my sleep.
What do you have to say,
you pathetic little creep?

I'm sorry Mr Bear,
please don't kill me.
Look, I left a basket of food,
under that tree.

So you seek to bribe me with food,
but that won't work.
I will still kill you,
but I'll eat your food first.

But as the bear turned,
he felt a spear in his heart.
He looked back at me,
from a few feed apart.

He said you tricked me,
you cheating little man.
I said I did nothing at all,
but live by the law of your land.

by Ricky Silva, August 2013

JUST ANOTHER STORY

Included in this post is the poem "Just Another Story" and I call it that because though to the average person that story might seem horrible but in my surroundings it's just another story.

It is a short version of my life to date but compared with some stories around me it isn't even so bad. So a lot of us on solitary have similar stories.

I would say now, it was not an easy life for a lot of us and no, it does not excuse what put us here but for a lot of us, we never quite understand how wrong we were living and that includes me. 

If I had half the knowledge I have now when I was 18 years old, I know for a fact my life would be a lot different as would the life of the people I hurt in an attempt to make my own pain go away. 

I can not change the things I have done, I can't take them back nor can I make them go away. I can't give life back to the man I took it from and to be honest I'm still not sure I would want to. 

But I recognize all the wrong I did. I realize I had no right to take a life even if I felt justified. And for sure I had no right to instill fear in people and take their money for the selfish purpose of getting drugs to escape my own life. 

And though a lot of people doubt it's possible, I have changed and am changing every day.

Will it free me from prison? No, it won't. But becoming a better man for me is a purpose in itself. It feels good to see a better man staring back at me in my crusty little mirror.
And there are a lot more convicts just like me being put through the mental torture of being isolated in the concrete boxes they call cells. We try every day against the odds to become better men. Dealing with the punishment for the hurt we caused, when for a lot of us we know no one will ever pay for the hurt they caused us, setting a lot of us off down a dirty dead end street at a young age.

I caught another convict, who was already in prison for raping an 11 year old girl, masturbating while looking at a picture of my 9 year old niece and I snapped. I completely lost it and I killed him.

Have I forgiven him for his actions? Honestly, no I havn't. But I also now can't forgive myself for the murder. Every person has some good in it and even he did also.

That being said couldn't it be just as possible that us men sitting on solitary have good in us also?

Be safe.

One man caged
Ricky
____________________________________________________

JUST ANOTHER STORY

My father died in prison, before I turned two.
My mother beat me when she drank, and beat my brother too.
Even as a baby I was stubborn, to be controlled by a fist or palm.
My mother would put beer in my bottle, just to keep me calm.

My sister was raped by my brother, and it went on for 5 years.
Yet she still offered me a shoulder, to collect my pain filled tears.
My family was insane, but it was the only family I had.
If you never had it good, you don't know when it's bad.

When I was eight years old, my mother beat me bad one day.
I showed up to school black and blue, and they finally took me away.
I felt all alone and filled with fear, living in the house of a stranger.
So I displayed each day through my actions, a heart filled with anger.

Filled with fear and hopelessness, I started pissing the bed.
And that went on until I turned 15, and the little boy in me was dead.
I spent time in many homes, most of the time lost and confused.
Why when I'm supposed to feel safe, am I always being abused?

In a strangers home I was beaten bad, at a very young age.
And it went on and on until I snapped, and flew into a rage.
I attacked the man dishing out the abuse, and I was charged with assault.
So I was physically and mentaly abused, and now it was my fault.

At least in the child detention center, the abuse finally stopped.
I was almost disappointed, when the charges were actually dropped.
So I closed my mind and built a wall, as I went from home to home.
Me against a fucked up world, as I let my broken heart roam.

Throughout all of this, most of my family went away.
But I was almost a man now, so that seemed okay.
I learned the hard way, that I was the only one who cared for me.
So fuck the world and everyone in it, that's how life would be.

At 18 years old with a wandering soul, I ran the dirty streets.
Not knowing it wouldn't be long, before my destiny I would meet.
I finally found a reason to live, I would go insane today.
Cocaine gave me motivation, and took all my pain away.

Cocaine became my goal in life, I always had to have it.
I would lie, chaet and steal, anything for the habit.
I would say cocaine stole my life, but I gave life away myself.
I was sentenced to natural life at 27, I can blame no one else.

Things have happened in my life, I can't begin to understand.
Two years into my sentence, I killed a man with my hands.
It's hard to believe that has been, over four years ago.
Who would of thought this cell, for that long would be the life I know.

I can't claim innocense, or say my crimes should be dismissed.
But neighter can I agree, that me or anyone deserves this.
So I lay awake at night, in my own little hell.
Knowing that me and me alone, got me into this tiny cell.

I can't feel sorry for myself, for I am not alone.
Thousands of prisoners like me, sing the same sad song.
I don't write all this, so the reader will feel sorry for me.
Because as bad as it sounds, in here it's just another story.

by Ricky Silva, July 2013

FEAR NOT

With each breath of wind, nature slowly unfolds.

With each setting trend, another story is told. 

So as I look at the construction, of the world today

I inhale the destruction, that just won't go away. 

Yet deep in a corner, there is a spot of great peace. 

A place so much warmer, where there is no police.

A place from the past, that we use to know.

A place of green grass, lightly covered in snow. 

Today is so cloudy, I hope for the shine of the sun. 

My thoughts become rowdy, when I think of the battles I've won. 

When my confidence seems low, I easily deceive you. 

What you have to know, I never believed true. 

So with all that said, is life what it really seems. 

Only when we are dead, will we know what life really means. 

So I open up my mind, to the ideas of all

Because in do time, we all must fall.

So when I leave this world, and give my final good bye. 

I won't have a casket of pearls, but you'll find love in my eyes. 

I've gripped all the terms, of a troubling life. 

So when I rest with the worms, I'll make joy my wife. 

Right now death, might be coming near. 

But my last breath, I will not fear. 

I will let the memories of yesterday, put a smile on my face. 

And I will take my life and live the rest today, and sleep on sheets of lace. 

by Ricky Silva, July 2013

HOPE FOR TODAY

In the world we believe, yet trust we not
In a vision I receive, a pound of buckshot
Upon the highest mountain, you may find truth
And in the clear blue fountain, you may find youth

While living in a bubble, we find knowledge can't be taken
And it's our biggest trouble, that we all been forsaken
We will never ever allow, for a show without us on stage
So we take a stow bow, as the curtain closes on our rage

Over 400 degrees, and in our heart a fire burns
To be extinguished by the seas, of a mind that's been slowly turned
Green is the grass, on which we now and always walk
And to save their dirty ass, many will choose to talk

Yet there is honor amongst some, that holds even today
And the day will soon come, where it doesn't matter what we say
We may choose to forgive, yet not be forgiven our wrong
Today we all live, but it can't last very long

So I contemplate lifes gift, and I slowly start to plot
My feet begin to shift, along this twisty path I trot
Life gives and it takes, this I found to be true
But our outlook makes, the choice for me and you

So though things are bad, I walk head held high
I may at times be sad, but joy lives in tomorrows sky
You may not control today, but you today can change tomorrow
So let a smile push your blues away, caress hope and say goodbye to sorrow

by Ricky Silva, july 2013

IN MEMORY OF JOHNNY

Johnny D. Reed
born 03/22/1973
died 12/21/2012

July 18th, 2013

The poem to go along with this post is dedicated to Johnny Reed who was murdered by the department of corrections.

Why do I say murdered when in all reality he hung himself? Because first they killed all his hope and then by leaving him in solitary for almost 10 years, they killed his spirit.

Make no mistakes, he was murdered and they used his own hands as the weapon.

Someone on the wing with me now told me just yesterday that this happen all the way back in december 2012. Johnny was not perfect but I liked him and neighter he nor anyone else deserves to go through what we are going through with this long term solitary confinement.

The poem pretty much says how I feel. I just found this out yesterday so I don't even know what to write. But it is a reality check for me. We are all mortal and I have been real close to ending my own life many times. But Johnny will not be forgotten, at least not by me.

Be safe.
one man caged
Ricky

KILLED BY THE DARK

dedicated to Johnny Reed (died December 2012)

He sat in the darkness, for almost 10 years

Striding foward each day, swollowing his tears

He was not perfect at all, but he didn't deserve this

To rot in a cell, with no one to love or to miss

He was quick to laugh, when he was feeling well

Or to tell a joke, to get us away from this hell

He was a man of his word, this I know to be true

If you gave him respect, he would in turn respect you

But with each passing day, his world became black

The darkness covering a world, he would never get back

Life became heavy, a great struggle each day

depression set in, and would not go away

Than one day the wing became loud, with everybody banging

The guards went to check it out, and they found Johnny hanging

They broke his fucking ribs, trying to pump air into his chest

And then let him die, saying that they did their best

Johnny for what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to go

You were one of the few in here, I was happy to know

I can't lie and say, it has not crossed my mind

I've come very close myself, from time to time

You were a warrior Johnny, make no mistake

But even a warrior, has only so much they can take

Just want you to know, you will be missed

Not just another soul, claimed by the darkness

by Ricky Silva, July 2013

STAY STRONG

The Close Management Cell / Florida State Prison
drawn by Daniel McKee (Florida State Prison)

Some of us have already lost, some are facing defeat
We're now paying the cost, surrounded by concrete
A lot is out of our control, or even much worse
We pay now with our soul, for things we can't reverse

Darkness is all around, yet we have no time to mourn
With dew upon the ground, comes the brand new dawn
Clouds often fill the sky, yet at times they come apart
Then the sun sits up high, brightening my broken heart

We sometimes feel the pain, of looking loneliness in the face
The tears fall down like rain, but solitude we won't embrace
In this tiny cell, I've dwelled for many years
My heart lets off a yell, for the hope that swallowed my tears

It's not over yet, for I take another breath
Though I won't forget, I admonish the thought of death
I will not choose to fail, it is meant for me to be free
I will walk freedoms trail, if only mentaly

So with the sky so very blue, the eagle spreads it's wings
After all that I've been through, I can make it through anything
The mud may be to my knees, as I trudge through life today
But tomorrow comes on the breeze, blowing all the mud away

So I hold hope near, pushing away fear and sorrow
Fighting what I hear, hoping for tomorrow
And when tomorrow finally arrives, I will be standing tall
Because only the strong survives, and I will never fall

by Ricky Silva, july 2013

STRIP

I thought of something you might want to know about.
It is a procedure they use here that started about 5 years ago. It is called "property restriction" and it's a cruel thing. They use it out of context. Whenever you piss off a guard he will lie and find a way to put you on property restriction, better known as STRIP.

They don't just take all your personal property they take everything out of your cell. They leave you a pair of boxers, that's it. No mattress or sheets nothing in your cell but you and your boxers. You sleep on steel for 3 days that's if you can sleep at all.
When it's winter time they will turn on the fans so you can be as cold as possible. It is like torture.

I went through only once but it was in the winter so it was really bad. Not something I ever want to go through again if I can avoid it.

So just another one of the ways they find to legally abuse us and we have tried, there is nothing we can do about it. They pass it off as a security issue and there is no way to prove they are abusing it.

The following poem is about how I felt when they put me on property restriction.
____________________________________________________

FIGHTING THE CHILL

It's so very cold,
please bring me the heat.
I can't fight the ice,
I must now retreat.

I backtrack from war,
in the deep white snow.
I look over my shoulder,
and no footprints show.

It's cold, it's so cold,
I feel frost in my veins.
I seek the warmth of a smile,
and find only disdain.

I treck on, I treck on,
but there is no end in sight.
It all feels so real,
why do my lungs feel so tight?

The pain is to great,
it knocks me to my knees.
It's so fucking cold,
I think I will freeze.

It's cold, it's cold,
I must get away.
Yet there is no safety,
I'm dead anyway.

by Ricky Silva, June 2013

NEVER GIVE IN

Live for the day, die in the sorrow.
Yesterday is gone, maybe no tomorrow.
So much weakness, in the land of the strong.
So much right, where is the wrong?

I opened up my head, and my mind took a stroll.
There is no freedom here, big brother is on patrol.
Always on your feet, prepared for an assault.
If you slip someone grips, and it's your own fucking fault.

Any move you make, could land a knife in your back.
You can't open doors, not even a little crack.
Give someone an inch, and they'll surely want a mile.
What kind of life is it, when a form of weakness is a smile.

People live people die, it all happens here.
I'm here for life, my neighbor only one more year.
How do I live in hell, and show absolutely no fear?
How can I feel so much pain, and never shed a tear?

I can't let it take me, the evil of this place.
My head is high, I face the sky, the sun in my face.
Surrounded by barbwire, it always is a struggle.
To live a normal life, in a barbwire jungle.

Yet I feel the urge to better myself, should I even try?
I did this to myself, why, why, why?
But I won't give up, I will once again be free.
Even if my freedom only comes, in my head mentaly.

by Ricky Silva, may 2013

TO MUCH

I'm lost, I'm lost
don't hear a sound.
I'm lost, I'm lost
will I be found?

Will I wander forever,
where the wind swirls?
Will I be stuck here
in between worlds?

Will the light come,
and all be revealed?
Will I recover at all,
will my wounds be healed?

I want out of this darkness,
but can't figure out how.
Alright I'll be good,
will you let me out now?

This punishment is,
much to severe.
Are you kidding me?
Almost 4 fucking years!

Almost 4 years of solitary,
this confinement's to long.
And there is no end in sight,
but I will remain strong.

by Ricky Silva, june 2013

YOU LIVE, YOU LEARN

Think back in time,
of all that you learned.
The fire blazes hotly,
step close and get burned.

Just because it shines,
doesn't mean that it's gold.
Don't believe in everything,
that you are told.

Sticks and stones,
may break your bones.
And you don't do it all,
on your very own.

It's ok now and then,
to shed a tear.
Don't be afraid,
to face all your fears.

Watch your step,
so you don't trip.
Once you start something,
never do you quit.

Knowledge from experience,
is the key to the kingdom.
And this knowledge put to use,
is the essence of wisdom.

by Ricky Silva, june 2013

24 QUESTIONS

If you're surrounded by nothing, can you feel trapped?
Should you sit back and watch, as your world comes unwrapped?
If life ended right now, where would you stand?
Have you reached your goals, fulfilled your plan?

Have you loved your neighbor, like we know we should?
Have you helped another, at times when you could?
Have you loved someone and that love wasn't returned?
Have you given chances to people and than been burned?

Have you burned someone else, when they gave you a chance?
Have you ever been a victim, of bad circumstance?
Reached out for help and no one was there?
Or someone reached out o you, but you didn't care?

Do you learn from mistakes, once there are done?
Do you believe you have faults or are you the perfect one?
Am I a waste of life, because of my incarceration?
Do you believe in being ready, in great preperation?

Should we be forgiven, for a life we choose to live?
Is it hard for you as a person, to let go and to forgive?
You ever not want to admitt it, but were filled with fear?
Ever been confused in life, yet said it was all clear?

Ever have good things happen and credit it to good luck?
Ever feel yourself dieing, but didn't give a fuck?
Tired of my questions? I don't blame you.
But nobody is perfect, isn't that true?

by Ricky Silva, may 2013
_____________________________________________________________________

If you have been following my blog i hope it's not boring you to death as I sit in my cell surrounded by steel. I enjoy writing and I'm trying to do something productive so I don't feel like such a loser. The poem is a lot of questions, questions I often at one point or another had to ask myself.

I hope your answers make you feel better about yourself then my answers made me feel. Feel free to comment on them or ask some of your own, that is completely up to you.

I promised to tell about some of the people on my wing and then they up and moved me. Things are more secluded here, the cells are farther apart and communication is difficult. We must scream to be heard and that pisses off the guards. We can talk out our window but if we get caught we get written up or they don't feed us the next meal. I know, crazy but once I get readjusted to my new home I will fill in the blanks on my blog.

Please understand, I realize a lot of people who read this are not going to like me or are not gonna agree  with a lot of the things I say. These are just my thoughts. I can respect anybodies point of view and in fact would love to hear any feedback, positive or negative. I am open-minded and will accept all feedback. So untill next time I reside in and write to you from a box made of concrete, I reach out anyway.

Sincerely
Ricky

Ricky Silva DC# L24722

Florida State Prison

7819 N.W. 228th street

Raiford, Florida 32026

U.S.A.