Written for a hotel desk clerk in Logansport, Indiana.

 

‘Twas it not this night that I saw your face

For the first time ever, but ever the last?

‘Twas it not this night I had no grace

And forever from now will remain in the past?

 

‘Twere you not the prettiest thing I’ve seen,

You would not have been seen at all.

‘Twere you not in the place in which I’d been,

I could not have found a way to fall.

‘Twas it not your glance that gave me grief

As I looked your way with none to say?

‘Twas it not my mind that reaped relief

When I decided I was to stay?

‘Twere you the one of my dreams,

I surely would not have known.

‘Twere my life to flow down many streams,

This night must not set the tone.