and I, a dreamer's bride,
am void of expression
as I smile, and listen
for the rustle of skirts
as though forever
could stand suspended in such sound.
and you-
you echo effortlessly
an evanescent hymn
in the overcast morning.
the bells ringing across the bricks
over the oaks,
and beyond the walls
as the ghost of laughter
haunts my lips
and in paling shades
of frost and fog,
night becomes day.