Cancelled Stamps Poem by Patricia Ryan

When I lived in Rome, Italy, I had the good fortune to become the fiance of a wonderful Roman man who had custody of his nine year old son. Francesco wanted no part of me at first. After time, and with a lot of work on my part, he gradually understood that I was not going to replace him with his father and in the bargain he had gained a friend.
This young boy collected stamps and to keep our relationship going, I would sit with him and go over the stamps. He taught me a lot.
As often happens with Ex-pats, what seemed like a good idea at first(get married in Italy and live there) began to change into doubt and fear.
And homesickness. I decided to take a break and come back to New York to see what I really wanted to do. I thought I would go back to Rome in a reasonable amount of time, but it turned out to be nearly two years before I realized I did want to take this chance, and would.
In the meantime, Francesco became ill and died. His father was in no mood to readily accept the return of the woman who left them both out of the blue, and was not there for him during this crisis and the tragedy of losing a son. He said 'yes, ' then 'maybe' then 'sorry, but no.' I had only myself to blame for years of misery and regret thereafter.