Rosa.

Today I must tell you of Rosa
A girl I encountered in Rome
She greeted me in my own language
And invited me back to her home

She lived on the Via Veneto
A highway that goes on for miles
In the lovely Hotel Alexandra
I was welcomed with hugs and with smiles

Her dad was the owner Luigi
And her mother was known as Maria
They lived in a style simply lavish
On the fruits of their hotel career

We dined in their Restaurant Pini
On veal with a sauce of champagne
The tastes of that extravaganza
I’ve never encountered again

I stayed for a week in that luxury
Seven days, which were simply divine
With cordon bleu food at the table
And historical bottles of wine

With Rosa I went to the ballet
And enjoyed all the seven hill sights
Of that wonderful Roman adventure
Throughout seven days and six nights

But whilst I enjoyed dolce vita
Dear Rosa was spreading the word
That I was destined for the altar
A notion, which I found absurd

Her father, though quite sympathetic
Suggested that I had been blind
And offered a six figure dowry
If only I’d just change my mind

He’d mapped out my future precisely
No effort, no work and no cares
Just cherish his beautiful daughter
And father a couple of heirs

It was such a magnificent offer
My poor brain was riddled with doubt
At last I said arrivederci
And jumped in a cab and got out

The following day back in Chepstow
I knew I had done the right thing
I was never cut out for a playboy
So I gave old Luigi a ring

The guy showed no sign of resentment
And said I must still be his friend
But the heart of his bambina Rosa
Would take a whole lifetime to mend

So I then returned to my studies
And weeks just flew by in a flash
Then one morning a card in my mailbox
Came out of the blue with a splash

Yes, a silver and gold invitation
To the wedding just seven days hence
Of Rosa and Count D’Alenegra
To Rosa, I’m sure it made sense.

Maria and Luigi have gone now
And Rosa’s the mother of eight
She once worked part time as a waitress
A beautiful victim of fate?

Whilst I enjoy life here in Yorkshire
Recalling the days of my youth
You might think that all this was imagined
But believe me my friends, ’tis the truth

Alan Parry-Booth................29.12.2010