If it is he that should go first
She'll save his sadle
the labors of love in the years of oils
will peel her onion soul
layers she'll pile on each season
winter coats warming
until her time to meet him
And if it is he,
her wedding dress will hold him
it's antique pressed lace arms
enfolding him
until scents are gone
and fibers turn to dust
and it is his turn to meet her
I had an idea about an elderly woman who destroys her wedding dress but felt like I've been writing about too many female characters lately so wrote this instead. I think I like it better.
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