Barcelona ( A Twist On The Canterbury Tales)

Prologue

In the humid days that Mark the end of spring
When the humming bird's continue to sing
And the Sun grows hotter, the days grow longer
When schools come to a close, I began to wonder
What paths lay in wait for me?
What sites are there left to see?
So I packed up my bags and walked out the door
Of the place I will return nevermore
Off to the airport, ticket in hand
To a new and adventurous land
A land full of culture, vibrant and new
And magnificent colors of red and blue
Barcelona, that's where I'll go
And boy you will be in for a show.
Now sit back, relax, while I spin my tale
Of my peculiar companions and how we ended up in jail.

Upon my arrival at the airport
I met an elderly woman of the unusual sort.
She had midnight hair touched with a moon kissed streak
Some people believed she was weak,
But in this they were terribly wrong
For that old chef was amazingly strong.
A dedicated woman, who was beautiful when she laughed,
Wished to go to barcelona to hone her craft
Her hazel eyes expressed sincere kindness
Unless she called you," your highness"
Her temper was one to be reckoned with,
And she had a burned knee from September sixth.
It wasn't a surprise to see her Chase a man with a bat;
She wore naught but a chef's coat, slacks, and black flats.

Next came the soldier with PTSD
Who had fought in many wars across the seas
He had fought with such valor and grace
Many said when he trained they gave him space.
Brave and strong he was, and what I say is true
His eyes were that of the deepest blue.
Kind, loyal, truthful, and unbiased,
If I recall correctly he was named zacharias
He was wise beyond his twenty-seven years,
And he had shed a river of tears.
For though he was a pillar of religion and honesty,
It was his wife who made him show such modesty.
But she passed away three summers ago,
Leaving him a heartbroken widow
So off he goes to visit her grave
His heart was one I wished I could save.
A gentle giant with an olive skin tone
Was the greatest man I've ever known.

When seated in the terminal I met Mr. Xavier gray
Whose very flight had a delay.
He was a young man, twenty-eight years of age,
And more majestic than a mage
A vineyard awaited this knowledgeable farmer,
And, oh boy, he was such a charmer.
He valued hard work and religion.
He was gentler than a pigeon.
Generous and well educated in his trade,
You would rarely think to see him without his spade.
Brown hair he had, with golden streaks,
Grey eyes and an eloquent way of speech.
At six foot six, he was humble and modest as can be
He was very handsome, at least to me.
But when I asked why he was going
His true self began showing
His charisma began to falter
And said he had a bride waiting at the altar.
That was the last thing he said
And it left me with a sense of dread.

As the time of departure grew closer, and we formed our row
A mother came running with her child in row.
An unlikely pair these two seemed to be,
She seemed desperate as if they needed to be free.

The mother was pale of face,
So beautiful, many men must chase.
A young, Scottish woman, with flame red hair
And yet her wedding finger seemed to be bare.
She spoke to get child in fluent español,
With passion she spoke from her very soul.
She looked no older then twenty-three
And about five foot four, if you were to ask me.
Her green eyes kept jumping from place to place
That even a hare couldn't keep pace.
When I talked to her she was soft spoken,
But I had to ask for a simple token.
You see, this woman wasn't just anyone
But one who was rumored to be in the run.
Her name was Angel Michaels before
A talented dancer, who could ask for more?
Charming And modest till he came along
And tore her life apart as if she had done something wrong
Abusive He was, So she ran away
To protect her daughter, and live to see another day
But our conversation began to grow short on time
So she left me with her new last name Hoenhiem.

Bouncing by her mother's side
Was a child with eyes so wide.
A little girl about the age of five,
Never had I seen a child so alive.
She spoke animatedly with all of the others
Her green-blue eyes resembled her mother's.
She drew pretty pictures and invented a new game.
She told jokes that were both humorous and lame.
This little lass with golden locks,
Could even read the time from the many clocks.
She once sang in a choir, who praised Hosana
This child went by the name of Bet'Anya.
Though she was so very smart,
She walked around with a heavy heart.
She didn't know her dear old dad
This had made her so very sad.
So every night she had said,
"I love you papa" before she went to bed.

Last but certainly not least
Was my dear friend, a gentle beast.
Once upon a time he had been a dancer,
But now he had stage four cancer
He was very tall and lean
Not a soul would've called him mean.
A retired veteran whose bravery shined through,
He was very religious too.
He was an older gentleman with graying hair
Who loved many and lived life as a dare.
Due to his many sleepless nights, he was plagued with never ending frights.
His golden eyes lined with black,
Showed his wall's had begun to crack
The truth finally settling in,
The cancer beginning to take its win,
So there he goes to barcelona,
To say goodbye to his beloved Mona.

So naturally we formed our band of seven,
Talked and enjoyed our peaceful heaven.
When we were all seated,
The fun had naturally depleted.
So little Bet, God bless her heart,
Came up with a game for us to start.
She created the rules and directions,
She also came up with various questions.
"Each person must tell a story or two
Then the others will question you
The person with the best story will win
This very pretty golden pin."

So introductions have been made,
And now my part has been played.
So I bid you a firm adieu,
Here's xavier's story for you.