Rhymed Narrative-Camellias For Amelia

She is a widow, never wanting to marry again, never defiling her vows, her five children have moved to other parts of the United States; and they seldom visit her, except on the very special season of Christmas, when she adorns her home with garlands and lights to honor the Child Jesus... Her name is Amelia, a petite lady from Andalusia,whose passion is writing poems, and her Spanish accent is somewhat heavy, but the words are clear and precise; on long summer's nights she speaks of her native land...meadows covered with camellias, and tells tales of Columbus and the Conquistadors with feathered helmets... She was quite beautiful in her younger days, daises in her dark, lustruos hair, and sea-colored eyes that resembled the Mediterranean Sea, which brought her nostalgia; and she often wore a folklorist costume of stripes of bright orange and yellow like her flag, and now she's confined to a wheelchair looking sad...who has camellias for Amelia? This past spring I planted a dozen of camellias plants in the empty and barren lawn, hoping they would bloom when she would stare at the huge Atlantic Ocean; and with eyes as sharp as a youngster, Amelia would see her beloved Spain, and those lush meadows covered with camellias to bring her bitter-sweet pain. In the quite hours of an early August' morning, Amelia rose to say her prayers, and with the rosary in her devoted hands, she peaked outside and surprisingly smiled; a beautiful garden of camellias appearing in front of her joyous eyes... she was so delighted, but she couldn't go outside and caress them, but thought to herself, " Someone cares! " Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci