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
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