Carolyn O'Connell

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Before The Wedding

When I came to her room she
was wrapped in a white towel,
her perl-hazed dress was still
hanging on the wardrobe door.
They were drinking champagne:
pulling on tights, peering through
the curtains, watching for the flowers,
their girl-laughter masking her fears.
I watch her as she dresses now
knowing how my mother felt
when I put on such a dress,
how its folds signify departure.
With her veil on she stands confident
ready for him, ready to leave,
ready to follow age-old customs.

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