"The Moonlit Road"
The lamp posts reflected their rays of gold on the leaves of each tree as I tried to say goodbye.
Just a few footsteps can be heard at a distance as the Bar Europa closed for the night, the owner putting away the last of the white, plastic chairs.
A few elderly women walked past me, each one had their head covered in a fancy scarf for protection against the wind.
They strolled and talked about their families, and caught up on the latest news.
Just a block away, the red Communist banner blew in the wind in the piazza, with the words "La Storia Continua", to celebrate the political party's control since the 1940's.
There was only one thing in my heart that night as I looked out and saw the town of Alvito, with lights forming the shape nestled in the green mountains to the right of me.
The beauty of San Donato lasts forever, but it would have been more beautiful if I could have been with a special man that I had met there months before.
The June breeze suddenly disappeared, as I remembered the last time that I saw his blue eyes.
I truly felt like I was "coming" home to San Donato, although I am an American. I had realized at the point when an old Fiat drove by me and the bell tower told me it was 2:00am, that I truly missed him.
Oceans and mountains had kept us apart, and the time that I saw him last was with the howling wind of January, and the smell of the burning stove and fireplace surrounding me.
As I thought of him, there seem to be even more stars peeking out of the black, satin sky. I think the stars were always there, but I did not notice them until my heart was opened by the memory of him.
It was the way he laughed, smiled and held me. We understood each other, even with my San Donatese language that needs improvement.
The hearts had the same language and understood.
It was then that I realized that I had loved him, and I almost felt his arms embrace me, to protect me from the wind.
We are worlds apart, but as I return to San Donato each time, it feels like I am "coming home"
I remembered the laughter near the fireplace of my family's home, as we grilled the San Donatese cuisine of roasted lamb.
It was cold that night, but somehow it did not matter, all we needed was the fire and my grandmother's old brown and green plaid blanket
I remembered how he smelled, and how his sweater felt.
As I went home that night to the old house, I felt his presence everywhere, including the old dining room table where we had eaten, the old couch that was a bit outdated from the 60's was even comfortable with him.
I thought of all the promises that we made to each other, but the oceans and mountains had changed us.
As I visited my father's grave in San Donato, I thought of the special man that I had met there, and in my mind, I had spoken to my father and asked him to bring this special person to me.
The next night, I encountered him in the piazza, right on the same road where I had first met him months ago.
It was magical, and all I noticed that night was how the moonlit road glistened with flecks of gold and silver as he called my name.
I do not know what the time and distance will lead, but I know that I count the days until I go back again to see him.
I do not know what will happen, but for now, I realize why San Donato is so special. It is my father's resting place, and it is where another special man lives.
I do not have any regrets, but I know that this June was magical for me.
- Re: Another Poem - lorena 18:03:28 08/07/04