She lay there, so ornate
so pristine,
so fragile
as would a
calm night
before a storm,
or a lover
in the glow
of a candle light.
Like the aching
acceptance of
a prisoner's fate,
like a precision
clockwork
never running late.
Like the infinite
reflections of a
ray of light,
like remorse
seeping into
a perfect after-life
She lay there, so still
so beautiful
that night,
as we bid farewell
to the bride.
