She paces the floor in the dress we picked out
White cotton, red trim and some lace
Cheeks flush and heels click,
Hair bounceing quick.
Excitement and youth radiates.
Rite of passage so serious, she- most delirious.
Her anxiety an atmospheric strain.
The time has come to go,
She has no boy in tow.
Dad drives her down the lane.
A woman just left, familiar but not
Footfalls pattering like rain.
The girl slowly replaced,
Lost amongst lace,
I hope to see her again.
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