What She Does Not See

The melodies conduct in the sound room,

as the lassie drags cloth down the path.

Now, the damsel awaits,

as the blue dust is applied to closed lids.

The dahlia lies beautifully on her temple,

pure like the rose petals laid by their keeper.

Her earrings are old tokens

from a demised progenitor.

The gentleman is perturbed.

His party never appeared so modest.

The youth strides to this senior,

satin saturated from his palm prints.

Now the damsel borrows a slip,

and she hides it under her new frock.

Her arm intertwined with the cavalier.

So far, the day has carried her favorite play.

But she has missed most of the performance.

The precursor opens the doors,

and the damsel glides through.

Her eyes can now see the commencement of her future.