Villeggiatura

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