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Remembering The Colonel
By La Belle Rouge

I remember The Colonel, so well.
Beyond sunrises, sunsets, twilights.
He strolls arm and arm with me
on banks of the meandering river
where we share my parasol midday
and his wool coat covers my shoulders
when Autumn evenings embrace us.
We walk too close together tipping
my voluminous hoop skirt to one side.
Warm cognac scented breath on my nape
endearments I’ve heard a thousand times
yet never grow tired of hearing again.

I remember gray uniform, brass buttons,
sword clanking against his leather boots
when we danced away magnolia nights.
His gray hair and beard so distinguished,
his demeanor so elegant that I found it
impossible to imagine him stabbing hearts
and slitting throats in the midst of battle
rebel yell screamed from his very soul
blood splattering his uniform and horse.
I could not picture him thus. Though I knew
it was a part of who he was, what he was,
this was not the man familiar to my heart.

He was never anything but tender to me;
protector, confessor, love in the night.
Gone too often and too long, how I pined
for his gentle voice and his warm touch.
I grew tired of waiting in the shadows
but he was a real man, worth waiting for.
He knew the things that pained my heart.
Promised to free our slaves, at war’s end
but by the end they were already free.
And we were free to be only ourselves
without the pretenses and the stench
of wealth built on others’ broken backs.

His wounds were deep and oft
tender fingertips and loving lips
traced the course of their scars
I buried the silverware in the front lawn.
The thieving Yankees couldn’t find it
but the Colonel and I never dug it up.
For now we were free to be, only we
Friends by day, lovers by night,
rich only in everlasting love.
He stands like an unbending old oak
rooted on the riverbank of my reverie.
How well, how fondly I remember
The Colonel



11/15/2008 La Belle Rouge

“Poetry, Soul Whispers”

Music "Faded Love"