Benjamin Franklin, Printer

The day that I met you, you were outside my father's house. A roll under each arm, pockets turned inside out.

Such a sight that you were! And yet, why am I unable to forget you? I laughed until I cried, and now I am sad.

You sailed away, somewhere far away, and father said, "Come, Deborah, see him no longer.

"I have a better bridegroom for you," and father's words were law. I married, and was never happy.

The words of love on my lips were first when I read your name on that faded note. A humble name, yet noble.

Benjamin Franklin, Printer!

"Who is he," asked I to the ladies at tea. They said you were of humble stock, a printer of books and papers.

"Some sort of fool run-about," said the ladies to me, and giggled over their tea. That was enough for me.

For I knew that I loved you, no matter your name, or whom you might be. Come back to me,

Benjamin Franklin, Printer!

I was wed against my heart's desire. The bridegroom is no love of mine. He talked to me about the silver, and the china.

The dresser was emptied. The candlesticks were removed. John Rogers stole all I had brought, and sailed away.

He shall rue the day. The Creator sent him away. The only household good he never got was my heart.

I locked my love away from my husband. His love proved false. I am alone, weeping by a hearth.

There is no warmth here. I am alive because my heart has a fire inside. The man I love is across the sea.

I pray there shall be a day when he returns to me. I see his name before me, as I did ages ago.

Benjamin Franklin, Printer!

No matter what may come, there is hope in each new day. There is hope each time I pray.

The Creator in his heaven shall hear my prayer, and answer it, someday. To be sure he knows, I say it again.

That name, that humble name, as it was written on that faded old note. Burned in a fire, yet alive to me!

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, PRINTER!