She's not out there, the girl who'll kick off those flashy, uncomfortable shoes and sneak off into the woods. You only wear a wedding dress once, who says you can't get mud on it? Leave behind the borish, chattering families with their expensive wine and their fine cuisine, leave them, and follow the stream and let them talk, and tread lightly on rocks, velvet green, and red, and soft against the feet, and speak of life and how lovely it is to live on such a day as this, the dawning spring beneath the trees, or maybe in the painted fall, but I'm quite sure that all the deer will bend their heads to drink cool waters as we pass and birds will sing a happy song, as for photographer and friends and all the rest, let them wait, let them wonder... where could they have gone? The sun descends into the reddening sky and I brush the leaves from her hair as we wander back down to the party. Matthew P. Schlette
2007-03-30
08:19:21
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