It was nearly dawn as she stared out her window, tossing around restlessly,
She could hear the hushed voices whispering through the cracks in her wall.
Her confidence frail, she drank in the musky fragrance of her ramshackle attic,
For it was the dawn of the day she’d be sold to a man at the price of a mule.
She pictured running her fingers through the silk satin streaming down her waist,
The tulle tickling her bare shoulders as she brushed it away,
Looking at her palms clasped around a bouquet of the redolent peonies,
Shying away from hobbling down the aisle towards a untrodden spirit.
Sooner than later, reality slapped her feet off the pedestal,
Her fairy-tale perception was shattered,
Her feet bleeding as she trudged down her stairway to the abyss,
As they aplauded her dauntlessness and devotion, even more so in the face of obliteration.
She saw a disfigured face at the end of the aisle, his mouth twisted into a ghastly grimace,
With his mammoth trunk, she reckoned he could fit her in his mere palm.
She swore she caught a glimpse of him licking his venomous fangs.
She cringed as images of the man bludgeoning her innocence filled her thoughts.
Soon as she walked into the radiant wedding arch, she could faintly discern reality.
Just for a moment, the world paused and began spinning the other way.
The bitter whispers faded, the shards of her torpedoed dream disappeared,
And the wind gently cradled the wedding bells in.
His eyes softened as he laid them upon her beguiling face,
His enchanting smile, a promise of a better tomorrow.
Her dainty hand never felt safer than when wrapped in his,
As she embraced her sweet destiny knowing it was meant to be.