It's late November,
leaves on the trees
beginning to fall;
a chill yet not a freeze.
There's a bedroll in the corner,
in my room up above;
a courier searching for his street.
Zig-zag...as he struggles with his gloves.
This old town-Charleston,
where most are married;
and who could forget
that broken down ole'ferry.
It's a misty morn-slippery porch,
the breeze slightly stirring,
a swing motionless,
just the suttleness of neighbors churning.
As I gaze over the dewy grass
in my view-recognize: shiney shoes,
a pinstriped shirt-tailored,
a familiar face; eyes sparkling blue.
He's my knight in shining armor,
an esquire I now find at my feet.
Humanizing his mystic powers,
my heart pounding as he greets.
A moment in space and time,
for in the distant air-
mother calls in her disgusting yammer;
My mind screams-"No! this isn't fair."
He hears her clamor-
his stature remains unvarnished,
not giving way to a clue
his wit retained-untarnished.
He detects a solemn tear
on the verge of my eye.
In liberation he leans to my cheek
~whispering...with a faint sigh~
"My fair lady...another day
will come for me to bequest
your hand, perhaps in May."
Thou who has given so much to me,
give one thing more: a grateful heart.