Black Wedding

The sun lights ablaze the insides of the church And colours the aisle for a girl to waltz down Clutching a carved dress sashaying over stone  She reaches the end and is dropped to the ground Her girl hands to her a tarnished black bouquet Of damp chrysanthemums and roughly cut hay And weeps on her dress, hoping that she will say “I’m here now my sweet, so put those tears away” She sits there in silence as the pastor stands And pulled to the side are her daughter’s pale hands  He blesses the dress, and each last tear is shed And prayers reach the ears of each bowed down head Each eye minds her shell when at last she stands up And pictures her dancing, might that be enough! But strapped in her dress she is forced to behave Tucked under the wood as she walks to her grave