My feet seem to pound the petaled walk.
How is my hair? The intoxicatingly sweet
Smell of tulips overwhelms me.
Am I crying already?
Just a few more steps, yet it seems like miles.
Are we there yet? One hundred pairs of
Of unfailing stares, and all I can think is
Did I leave the curling iron on?
Ahead waits a man, was he always so handsome?
My stomach leaps with anticipation.
As my journey comes to resolution,
I turn back to look, how did I get here?
The whole world stops, who gives this woman?
I barter gold bands for promises, and
Wait to give the only answer I know.