A Wedding Poem

Her stomach dances behind the silky white and lace.

She stands, hands wrapped around a bouquet of red, white and green, looking down.

Slowly, she turns toward the mirror, looking at herself, breath catching.

Beautiful, unrecognizable, magnificent, she feels so pretty.

The call comes, time is near, his face fills her mind.

Reaching the door, she pauses, breathes deep, closes her eyes, and speaks.

"I am ready."

Her mother takes her into her arms, sobbing I love you’s.

"I love you mama," she manages to say, weeping along with her.

Her mother reaches for her hand and leads her down the hall.

The music sends waves of excitement through her veins and a deep longing for him.

Kissing her on the cheek, her mother reluctantly leaves.

She is alone for the moment, the wedding march starts, her heart flies.

Closing her eyes all she sees is him.

She has memorized every part of him.  The contours of his face, those magnificent, gentle eyes, the way his

hands rest upon his legs, the freckles that sprinkle over the body that makes her forget her own name.

She doesn’t realize she’s trembling until someone takes her arm.

Opening her eyes, she looks up at her father, the one who will give her away today.

They stare at each other. He has been crying.

He bends down and kisses her forehead.

I love you baby.

I love you too daddy.

She wraps her arm securely around his and he leads her to the entrance.

There he is.

The image in her mind never gives the sight of him justice.

Smiling so wide, she takes the first step towards the rest of her life.

 

Bridgett Lyall

10/11/09