My mother’s Mediterranean eyes filled with tears. <br />‘Madre mia e morta! ’ she cried, as my older sister <br />stumbled over crude Italian letters. <br /> <br />Our tenement flat became a narrow <br />room that day; dirges reigned <br />in place of opera as falsetto turned to alto. <br /> <br />I’ll never know how long it took to bring her back: <br />a day in May, when flowers bloomed <br />or a night in June while crickets sang.<br /><br />Alicia Patti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-letter-from-sicily/
