AltarA Poem by Lydia
I wonder when
the wedding is -- as if I have a right It's not me who will be standing by his side dress of white smiling It's not my ring he will be wearing or my bed he will be joining No it's not my hand growing old holding his What are the chances of being left at the altar? (as if that's safe to wonder without giving myself away) The saddest day will be when it is a sin just to love him © 2018 Lydia |
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1 Review Added on June 5, 2018 Last Updated on June 5, 2018 |

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