For those wainting for the Colonel response, winter wasn't kind then, nor the fortunes of war, so, love needed to take a second place...

My dearest Southern Belle, you have perhaps
expecting my letter, but, first let me
tell you what is in my heart just now...



The drums after Gettysburg covered
with black felt to muffle and mourn
as the fields are covered with gray,
and blue, all wrapped with smoke
from now so silent flint firearms
and all the raucous cannon’s voice,
Confederate, Yankee soldiers, alike,
and Battle Hymn of the Republic song.

Wounded three times here I am trying
in defeat my head high, walking tall,
no one of my soldiers ever retreated
no one did to the Dixie flag a dishonor,
they were brave, fearless in battle,
so young, could had been my grandsons,
my heart aches seeing them down
after showing bravery when they fought.

General’s Lee Army of the Kanawa
fought the Union and now it’s gone,
Louisiana wild Cajuns sleeping forever
beside the Texan rides with they horses,
Kentuckians from Blue Grass Mountains,
from Tennessee a fifteen years old tambour
telling the Missouri unruly close ranks with
South Carolinians and Georgians approach.

Somewhere out there I know is your letter
searching for my address in a broken world,
but I can’t think of anything at the moment
but of the fallen men covered in a shroud,
a white and eerie veil of frozen sorrows
in this early morning of March dense fog,
Bentonville battle, both sides’ brave men,
many giving what they could, some giving all.

With thousands of wounded men I can’t
think of ordering more to be ready and stay up,
too many good men are lying scattered here
it is no more about who is right and who is not,
but the well being of so many survivors
which will be cursing for many years this war,
if we aren’t prepared to lay down the weapons
and tell the Nation that enough is enough.

Somewhere out there I know is your letter,
I will answer it, but first my heart will mourn.

Until then my Belle one
Your Colonel