This is the end chapter of the Southern Belle Lady and the Confederate Colonel.
We wish to think that they lived happy forever after and that today many of their descendants are among us to prove it.

My beloved one, I am writing this only for you.



Late July evening with a lazy sun resisting to go,
as, from behind the mountains, comes up the moon
dressed in white bride’s galas tiptoeing on the sky,
letting us know where is the path to honeymoon,
a path guarded by rows of standing in attention trees
and jasmine flowers over shrubbery to go through,
perhaps the river doesn’t remember that night,
but, my love, an unforgettable nigh it was for us.

We needn’t to say nothing as looking at each other
remembers came rushing forward, we understood,
magic was returning inside our hearts as our feet
moved towards the Santee River answering the call;
my dearest one dressed all in ethereal lavenders
running like a little child chasing fairy-tale thoughts,
in a forest that once saw us pass full of desires,
until stopping where the river could lick your toes.

And there you were, waiting by the Santee River,
repeating the magic of a night we had had before,
the lavender dress kind of letting naked a shoulder
where I put my lips and a kiss said it much more
than I could whisper, perfumed red hair burning
as I reached up your neck…by the ear just below,
you leaned back as my arms embraced all of you
having the lips slightly open and your eyes closed.

Oh! how many a night I have dreamt this moment,
feeling you trembling of desire with utterly abandon,
as your hands guided mine searching all your body
for the hiding places where was a dormant fiery love,
then, turning around and looking at mi face, in a haze
of tenderness you kissed me with a desperate wanton,
as our clothes dissolved like ice on a volcano’s heart
and on the grass we felt, we weren’t apart anymore.

And then it was the perfume of sweat and jasmines
left behind by the furious storming of our passion
that didn’t placate my desires as deep inside you,
my life of solitude vanished as I was making love;
as you kissed my chest where bullets went inside
your fingers traced on my back a scar left by a sword;
as your hard nipples with arousal on my wet skin
left twin tracks, like those left by the claws of a hawk.

The earth moved, like with an earthquake, twisting
in my insides, with tears in my eyes I couldn’t let it go,
I went on kissing you, touching, proving with my hands
and with my lips the soft belly that hold my son;
and the fire gained momentum, all consuming flames
pushing me like thousand burning hands to kiss below,
the secret place between two white and gentle columns,
the place where all primal screams of pleasure are born.



This night my beloved Southern Belle will never end
my love, as I am yours forever.

Georges Edouard Mathieu d’Lafayette
Colonel
In the year of the Lord, 1864