He went out every night … mandolin in hand
Everyone knew the Mandolin Man
Francesco sat on the corner…with an open case
Sitting on a bench…in his favorite place
Playing tunes for all to hear
There was always so many listening there
Coins in his case for his family of six
He felt this lifestyle better than laying bricks
Lena met him in a small town in Italy
Knew his family were gypsy
He left his family’s way of life
So Lena would be his wife
It is said from the start
Lena’s hand was on his heart
Lena was home awaiting his return
When it was late..she would burn
Francesco was fire…Lena was ice
Together they became sugar and spice
He would come home … drank too much wine
Lena would be angry …things would not be fine
He would laugh when she was mad
Then his heart would hurt when she was sad
She knew he was always her best friend
And she would give in in the end
And forgive his drinking indiscretion
And until the next time it would not be mentioned
When Francesco died her heart was broken
Never again was his name spoken
The sight of the mandolin brought her pain
Because he would never be able to play it again
She threw it away as if it were an old toy
The mandolin that brought Francesco so much joy
I know today in Heaven he plays
His mandolin every day
And Lena sits at his knee
They were my Grandma & Granddaddy


Sally Omar

Joined January 2008

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