Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Poetry Year September 5

Wading into white, diving in to sea of flowers,
to be showered for a day by the accolades and smiles,
to once be painted like a painting,
or a whore,
and glisten glamor before the cameras on this one day,
but never more?

The bonding that is present comes and goes with other tides,
moments spent fraught with insecurity,
tormented by suspected lies.

But on this one glowing moment,
brought to cusp of the only ritual we know,
this one happiness is made serene
by matrimony's glow.

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