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That Night Your Name Was Charles
Folder:
Memories The Convention was
held that year at Tallahassee.
We were viewing civil war relics
and art in the old museum.
Something weightless,
perhaps time, embraced us,
and I knew we had both returned
to another day, the day of the
artist's brush.
We heard the sounds of history and,
in our hearts and minds, waltzed
together after the Battle of Olustee.
I was standing in bridal array,
a wreath in my hand.
You, the handsome bridegroom;
and your name was Charles.
As we found our way back to the
present, our hearts bonded.
I joined you in the ballroom, and
we danced again.
Your letter asked if I am happy.
I only ask that you remember
that night,
when your name was Charles.
