Sucre

Sucre in my coffee,
Sucre in my tea.
Sucre in my grapenut flakes,
Sucre and condensed milk.
Sucre are Olivier et Jacqueline
who own the Dolce Vita where we stayed.
Sucre is our bedroom
Sucre is the sun warming us though our window.
Sucre is a city white washed and lush parks.
Sucre is the other capital of Bolivia.
Sucre is a laverap that returned our laundry so fresh and so clean.
Sucre is sweet, is what I mean.