VII. Happy Anniversary

Dear Scarlett: I am drunk, but pray, do not think
I cannot recall what all has come to pass!
For though I am tottering down the road to Tara,
I recall you, cruel vixen, and me, the poor ass.

It is nighttime, and there are no people about
But those I left behind in the town.
And now it is time to receive my yearly due;
For this pickled king to take his crown.

So through the trees and onto the path,
I must have stumbled one or two times,
But tonight I've no care for clean presentation
As being besotted is the least of my crimes.

I am a scoundrel; a rogue of the flesh,
And I never let up as I'm governed by greed.
Or love? No, no! It's no matter of heart;
It's no matter of love; no matter of need.

We were the same, my darling; my pet!
But you were too blind to see it my way.
And then, by confession, you used me again,
Nothing you said could have compelled me to stay!

Beyond me now rises the grandeur of Tara;
Grandiose, but showing her age and her wear.
With a hiccough, I laugh to perceive that not all
Is perfect in the realm of my torturer's lair.

Bolder than before, I creep to the porch
And through a window I audaciously peer:
Not a soul, not a servant, could therein be spied,
But the absence of Ashley aroused silent cheer.

For indeed I had heard that Ashley was gone;
He'd only been there when she'd taken on ill,
And now, it is said, he lives with Aunt Pitty,
For her safety, in Atlanta, likely against his will.

The poor sap! He must love her!
But she can't understand,
And now he has no choice -
He simply cannot ask her hand,

For Scarlett is mine! I chuckled to myself,
But then felt a catch in my throat.
Alas, we're so alike! and so my heart bled
For the man, though he always got my goat.

And it was only just a year before
That I hid in the trees and she looked my way
Hoping, I think - But no, I can't say that:
I do not love her! I cannot sway.

And should anyone have seen what I did next,
Of embarrassment I surely would have died,
For I fell to my knees at the crack of my heart,
And as sure as I loved her, I cried.

I learned later on when I'd gone back to town
That the family of Tara had left in the night
To visit Carreen at the convent abroad,
Thus putting an end to my annual rite.

So sitting at the bar, I lifted my glass
To the Lady of Green, of Rhett, as of Tara.
Happy anniversary, my dear, I whispered aloud,
To the immortal Scarlett O'Hara.