Before The Cake

At a steady pace down a long, beautiful hall.

Several wall lamp leagues mark the distance to nothing

else but a gaggle of bright lavender about a tall, white bell.

Distinguished now from the rest, she separates

from the color grouped at the ballroom entrance- now a chapel.

She walks toward, leaving the fishbowl conscious calmly,

cleaving from the group to gather.

In taffeta, silk and lace. As perfect. Walking alone.

Then, strangers pass, most different in dress and situation.

Nods are exchanged. Nothing is said.