Until the war came into their Utopian World then, lives were changed forever. South ladies became working women to save the deserted farms.
Mary Margaret beautifully adorned in a white dress with French Chantilly Lace,
Her happiness glowed in her eyes and face.
Everyone, was there in their horse drawn carriages,
To celebrate with Mary Margaret and Lance in their Holy marriage.
Mary Margaret and her father were half-way down the aisle towards her Darling Lance,
When the double doors of the church were slammed opened, and in a sentry did prance.
A war had started, and they needed her Lance, right away,
He could not wait, so there would be no wedding today.
Many years past, and still she waited for her Lance who died in the war.
In her tattered, dirty, wedding dress and faded veil, she waited for him,
-------- not too much for her to bear,
She sat on her rundown porch in her paint-peeled rocking chair,
Often noticed by the children walking home from school, would stop to stare.
Year after year she sits there every day---- she waits, and she knows he
will come on February 14th to say, “I do” and kiss her lips with familiar ease,
He could always make her laugh, because being with him—made her easy to please.
Many years have passed, her parents now gone,
Yes, time had left her all alone.
But cry she would not,
She was from a strong lot.
However, its stubborn she be,
She said, “He will come to me.”
Neighbors found her one cool morning--- in her rocking chair dead,
Her earthly body she did shed.
But what they never knew-----his spirit came for her spirit to fly free,
And together they were married on February 14th, 1883.
Only her body was buried but not her spirit and heart,
The Church Bells chimed on her Wedding Day, now they are never apart.
I dedicate this to my Great-Great Grandmother Mary Valentine, from my father’s family, the Purvis’.
Why I Love Poems
A poem can be about anything your heart desires. It can be love, a sad loss, war, a peaceful place of solitude, drama, friendship or your pets, time, future and the past. These are subjects I like and more.
I love for my poems to tell a story. Although I have written free verse which was written as a special tribute to an unnamed person. Again, from the heart.
Let your heart speak and it will surprise you. I have read many poems on HubPages and I say keep it up--they all had a message from the heart.
Mary Margaret's Grave
It was told throughout the countryside when her grave was visited lavender rose peddles covered the grave. They were always fresh and even a strong breeze could not remove the beautiful silky peddles.
In the distance they could hear organ music softly playing from the deep dark woods. Late in the evening the stars shined a path from her resting place into the woods, which no one was bold enough to follow.
Young lovers visited her grave to leave fresh flowers and as they walked away a little breeze would send a little whirlwind through the leaves. They would smile because she was thinking her visitors.
© 2022 Barbara Purvis Hunter