July 4, 1826
I took care of the children, he said,
then the family came. Burwell
fluffed his pillows, sat him higher.
On rue de berri, he missed magnolia,
at Monticello, Jardin des Tuileries.
She refused to go home.
Arguments gave him migraines.
Light filtered in. Pages he read
to her, French she spoke to him.
Your accent sounds more French
than mine. They never went back.
We’ll live in those south rooms
as if at Hotel de Langeac–
as of —dreamer in his dreamscape.