When summer comes…
When summer comes, the Italians in droves
desert the cities and head for the country
and indulge in what they call villeggiatura.
For three weeks, perhaps, or much longer,
they go to an unspoiled salubrious resort
to forget about work and enjoy a rest cure.
Our village was too small for such tourism
so our visitors were few and far between.
Except for one man by the name of Leo
who invariably travelled, year after year,
by train from Rome – first class of course –
to a place that he called his second home.
With an ample girth, but light on his feet,
he could last all night on the dance floor,
which was at the back of the Station Bar.
The music alternated with the trains’ roar
but it did not deter our honoured guest
who, very skilfully, did not miss a beat.
Nothing was known of this mystery man;
he was very friendly but he kept details
of his private life too close to his chest.
We never imagined he could be an artist,
so it came as a surprise to see him in a film
playing the part of a bumbling chemist.
The excitement died down as we discovered
that he was not a real thespian but an extra
plucked from a crowd of curious onlookers.
That news put paid to the glitzy glamour
that interest about him had so far generated.
Dejected, he went and was not seen again.
Nothing is permanent in this world. Sic transit.
© Luigi Pagano 2016
This is a very human story, Luigi, which I enjoyed. I can feel the sadness this seemimgly lonely man felt when the locals began to shun him.
Some people can be callous and inconsiderate towards their fellow men with their fickle, transient, attitude ,Gerald.
Great stuff, Luigi. For me it had a real cinematic feel. Like a Panyol film I could here the reel clicking round.
It’s a nomination from me. Super stuff.
Absolutely delighted by your kind appreciation, Jim, and many thanks for the nomination.
A real treat for the senses this one Luigi, the warm Italian night the dancing stranger the rumble of close by trains. I could picture every scene and I do like a beginning middle and end with our character central to the plot. Best keith
We are in agreement about your assessment, Keith, that there should be a beginning, a middle and an end to a story or a poem. Clarity is my middle name. I am much obliged for your observations and thank you for them.
Very grateful for your analysis, Trevor. Appreciated.