So, I’ve met a girl called \'Valeria\', which in English basically translates as Valerie,
And upon looking into her eyes, it is very much like being at the finest art gallery.
Only it’s a gallery where I don’t have to queue for hours or pay lots for admission,
No this is much less painless; it’s my own, private, beautiful exhibition.
I’ll be honest I’ve only just met her tonight, on an Italian lesson where we spent just an hour together,
And I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking I’m probably now going to write something like ‘oh and how I wish that lesson could last forever!’
Well I’m not going to say that, forever is very long, in fact it is infinite,
But I do hope and wish I see her again and we become a little more intimate.
And I know that you probably think I mean getting intimate in a sexual way,
But in fact I don’t mean that! that is not what I was planning to say!
And while I’m at it, I also shan’t be comparing her to a ‘summer’s day!’
Those things I really was not planning to mention,
And if I may I would like to take this poem in another direction.
I wanted to talk more about things like how tonight she taught me some Italian grammar,
And as we conversed in the language she put me at ease so much, I didn’t once stammer.
Well perhaps I did a couple of times, but of that I just simply wasn’t aware,
I just kept on speaking with a glistening smile as she listened and twiddled her long black hair.
And when it was her turn to speak, she spoke with such grace,
As I sat there mesmerised by the beauty of her face.
Her mouth, her lips, her nose, her eyes.
Yep, they were all beautiful! That’s no surprise!
But there were other beautiful things I noticed also, things a little more obscure,
Such as her philtrum, her nostrils her eye brows and oh…….so much more.
She’s not a model, she’s not perfection,
But that’s what makes her more attractive in a way, or perhaps we just had some kind of connection?
Perhaps I was just hypnotised by the words that she spoke, perhaps there was something inside me sleeping which she awoke.
Perhaps she’s my soul mate! It could be true?! Don’t you think?
It has to be a possibility…or perhaps she just slipped something into my drink!
Perhaps she is a witch and she’s using me to practice a new spell, and although she looks angelic, she may be a creature from the stolen gates of hell.
Yes perhaps masquerading as an Italian teacher is a ruse and a deviant ploy,
As she really is the wickedest witch of White City who will curse this poor Peterborian boy.
Perhaps it is too late, my heart and soul have already been etched,
Or perhaps the above few lines are a load of crap , to be honest it is all a bit far-fetched!
But you simply never know, or as she taught me in Italian ‘Non si sa mai!’
She could be from anywhere or be anyone, she could even be an Italian ambassadorial spy!
This Italian teacher business could be a sham; she could be a real phony.
She could be on a secret mission and is reporting back to Signore Berlusconi!
Either way whoever she is, I want to be there to find out,
She taught me many things, she is a good teacher of that there is no doubt!
But she did more than just teach me Italian. She made me feel something which I hadn’t felt for quite a while.
She made me feel happy. She made me smile.
I had long forgotten about paying her the £20 fee.
As I started to believe she would voluntarily spend her time with me.
I would like to think that neither of us wanted the hour to end.
And she saw me not as a Student. But simply as a friend.