Once Upon a Night in France

By: Joann Harp

12/8/09

One night in France, a lady read a book,
She sat upon a white chair in her father’s reading nook,
She soon fell asleep in the wee hours of the night,
Her face was quite pale and her hair very light.

When the lady awoke the next day,
She searched for her family in dismay,
She went outside, and asked, “Where am I?”
When a peddler told her, she heaved a great sigh.

“I’m still in France, but what year is it?” she asked in query,
The peddler said, “It’s 1 A.D., Deary.”
“How did I get here?” did she ask,
“You’ll know later,” said a man in a mask.

She found him enchanting, wondrous, and free,
She asked him, “Why do you hide your face from me?”
He dared not answer, but the look in her eyes,
Told him that she could not despise.

He told her he was a lord and owned much land,
As he took off his mask, he kissed her hand,
He told her he had tried to escape his castle and acquired a wound
to his head,
For many people hated him and many wished him dead.

He asked her to marry him,
In which he asked in moonlight dim,
She said she would,
And knew she should.

They went to get married that night,
They picked up their feet and took flight,
Once they were wed,
“Where will we live?” she said.

“I’ll buy that castle that was owned by my kin,
And we’ll live there until our lives give in,”
He said;
But two years later, he was dead.

The lady, of which I have said,
Mourned for her husband who now was dead,
She looked at their son, so tiny and small,
And wished he would grow like his father tall.

Their son was so young, healthy, and strong,
She hoped his health would last very long,
As she thought, her son began to cry,
She held him tight and admired his light blue eyes.

Franchesca, which was her name,
Knew things would never be the same,
She was a widowed mother and feeling quite ill,
And tears in her eyes did fill.

Many years later, when her son was twenty-seven,
Franchesca Moinette-LeVron died and went to Heaven,
Her son was very sad and sat in his grandfather’s white chair to read,
Long after that, he fell into a deep sleep in which no one could impede.

When Reginard LeVron awoke,
He remembered neither his name, rank, or folk,
“I must have slept long to have forgotten,” he said,
And he felt something touch his head.

A little girl, with white hair and deep blue eyes,
Stood next to him and made him jump in surprise,
“Who are you?” asking did he,
She answered, “Minuet, your maid and I brought you some tea.”

He didn’t remember hiring a maid,
She showed him her contract in order to persuade,
The page had his name written in ink,
Minuet held the page quite still, she didn’t even blink.

Quite at that moment, a knock was heard,
Minuet said nothing, not even a word,
Routinely, she strolled over to the door,
Not a sound was heard as her feet touched the floor.

Minuet opened the door with ethereal charm,
A girl stood there, with a cat in her arm,
I dare not continue with this little rhyme,
Because, I will tell you the full story in due time.

Impressum

Texte: The cover and poem belong to me.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.12.2009

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