The Bride

The Bride

I find I can barely approach the bride,
So beautiful is she who, yesterday, 
Was one of us, but today is something more.
The bridesmaids are here in service to her,
Following their flowers, one of them
Picking up the train of her dress, after
The speeches, their faces wan in the glow
Of their phones. Something petulant 
About even the smiliest bridesmaid,
Even if she’ll stand where the bride stands one day.
But today she is a bridesmaid, not a bride,
The bride who I find I can barely approach.
Yesterday and tomorrow she will be
The woman I have known her as,
But today she is queen of the world.