To Demoiselle Beatrice

A letter to the lady named in the title by the Traveling Troubadour-----

Prolouge

My Dear Beatrice

          How wonderful that thou shouldst take the time to write me after rejecting my suite five years past. I am well and fairly comfortable in my role of Troubadour.

Thee asks if I remember thee. Demoiselle no man forgets the companion with whom he embarked on his first voyage into the unexplored ocean of romance.

 

 

I remember

the evening fog thickening

obscuring Diana's silver crescent---

the unfasened coral cloak

draped  acrost thy shoulders {such lovely shoulders.}

Thy bronzed circlet tilted rearward

framed thy auburn tresses as would a halo.

 

I remember

Thee sitting at the marble topped table

in the garden of the chateau reading

Romaine de la Rose by torchlight

thy violet chemise

deeping the color of thine eyes.

 

I remember

how the smoke from

nearby torches spiraled upward

into the wind and swept acrost

the  paling face of Diana.

 

I remember

thy limbs crost at the ankles

resting on the opposite bench

beneath the table.

 

I remember thee

sitting alone

on that raised terrace

waiting for someone

who would never again be me.