Wispful thoughts cross my mind,
waving forth in sweet repose
moments when a softer time
was set to voice in simple prose.

Days of lore, when fancy was dress,
lacied and corsetted in their best,
Men of stature rounding 'bout
in dignity among their guest.

Times when peace was held in hand
and respected among the finest of man,
When gallantry was common place,
a sword to hold the fairest face
safe from harm of uncoming word or beastly bite,
when a lady would flee from unsavory sight.

When loyalty was sacred as far as land extended
where chivalry was rigid and compassion well blended.
When Men were Men and held the right
to stand for goodness without a fight.

And a maiden of noble or common birth,
regardless of her face or girth,
was gazed upon with wonderment,
seeing the grace of heaven's sent
angels to care for the noblest of man,
to serve, to share her giving hand.

Wispful thoughts cross my mind
seeking a much simpler time
thoughts of hope for man's grace to last
stubbornly dreaming of the ashes of the past.