A day of celebration
I gaze at the mirror’s silvery surface.
It reveals my white gown adored with soft dove like folds
That emerges from the floor to meet a cluster of diamonds full of radiance.
As my veil drapes around my shoulders memories begin to replay
As if they were being read by Morgan Freeman from a picture story book.
A soft father’s touch quiets Freeman’s voice to announce the time has come.
I turn to gaze upon my once mighty king, delighted his decaying body is stubborn.
He is wearing his eighth pair of outdated spectacles,
with the ninth secured safe in mother’s purse.
With his eyes full of pride, I take my place.
I hear the notes of Canon in D begin to leap from the piano’s keys.
Like a child running to meet the ice cream truck full of excitement,
we begin to walk down to my future.
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.