in the cold
with their friends, or mothers,
the young
girls
wrapped tight in adolescent
clothes,
waiting
breathlessly for the doors
to open.
peering into the window
at the cake like
dresses,
the chiffons of pinks
and unearthly greens and
blues.
it's mid march, but oh
how time
erodes our list of things
to do
before bells ring, before
the altar is approached
and the words
are said, i do.
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