~   Sicilya’s Boots   ~

Vineyards ripe in luscious fruit, on Sicily’s mountainside,
"Sicilya" gathered grapes for papa’s wine.
Stomping into late night hours, of cool Sicilian evenings,
Her feet and legs took on a Merlot shine.

Too embarrassed to fulfill, aspirations of the heart,
She wore big boots to cover purple feet.
"Sicilya" dreamt of finding love, outside the winery,
While hid inside stone walls… her future bleak.

"Sicilya" came of age, for her first Winemakers Ball,
She graced the arm of Papa’s only suit.
Covering her legs in lace, her feet in shiny leather,
She danced across the floor in big black boots.

Stained beyond repair, tainted, tiny, colored ankles
A trademark of Sicilya’s family traits.
Dark Sicilian eyes, as a bottle of Cabernet,
Scanned the Ball, hoping for a mate.

Three small children holding hands, dancing in a circle,
Their widowed father stood nearby to see.
Exactly what "Sicilya" had been searching for,
A widower… his kids with purple feet…
 

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