May 10, 2013

In My Youth

In my youth,
the best girls
could be found
at weddings 
and funerals,
dressed all in black
or in white,
their eyes filled 
with passion and pain,
each one vulnerable,
yet again.
They were always
close to the bride, anxious 
for the honeymoon to start,
true believers
in for better or worse,
somehow able to wait.
They stood forever 
by the open grave,
silent flowers themselves,
lingering long after
others dispersed,
whispering, until
death do us part.