Afraid and timid,

The ghost of a frock sits on her hips,

The whisper of apron strings hover at the back of her legs,

A phantom bonnet holds her flaxen hair up and away.

Fingers fidget and flex in their clasped state.

Eyes downcast see pale earth tones,

Cheap servant colors.

The dress of a drab and diffident housewife.

Time flies forward,

A clear-thinking teen in tightly cut jeans and jacket

Laughs and jests with the others.

Her chin is high

And her eyes sparkle,

With nothing.

Inside she finches and worries.

Hesitates and cries.

She is afraid and shy.

Who are these men?

These people of unknown relations and manners.

Their familiarity and brashness makes me want to run and hide…

I am nothing.

I am a girl.

I am the pure girl on her wedding night afraid of the devils work.

Please,

Please.