Gemini Cricket
11-07-2007, 06:53 PM
Betsy and Herman
by: GC
The wind rustled the grass
that grew from the mortar
of the old brick church.
A lace wedding gown
danced in the wind grasping
to the frame of Betsy K.
Waiting impatiently for her
groom to be, the last minutes longer
than her sixty years of life.
The minister wore a groove
into the old stone floor of the
church puffing heartily.
Her veil erupted upwards
in the wind like smoke escaping
a bonfire lit by a lunatic.
Someone in the congregation
coughed as Nelly Feinbaum
tapped a song onto the pipe organ.
Betsy looked at the empty road
cutting a field of corn in half
the sun began to sink low into it.
She gazed into her bouquet watching
the Lillies of the Valley dance
in the breath of the heavens as she called it.
A truck pierced the horizon
stumbling down the dirt road followed
by a funnel of dust creeping like a cat.
The groom sat in the truck bed
his white suit covered in an ebony
pattern of oil and grease flowers.
She faced her dalmatian fiance
his hazel eyes big, brimmed with
innocence and guilt combined.
A family-filled car had broken down
you see, and the father had an arm
in a sling they were in desperate need.
The happy quartet drove away as the
groom's car battery drained itself
as the radio played Johnny Cash.
The truck plucked him from the road
and became a lightning bolt towards
the weathered overgrown church.
The explaination lingered in the air
as the bride gazed at her husband to
be her face cracked in two with a smile.
The bride collected black from him
and she danced her fingers around her
silk gown matching his pattern on herself.
The speckled couple hugged and
kissed as her veil wrapped itself around
them both in a lace embrace.
by: GC
The wind rustled the grass
that grew from the mortar
of the old brick church.
A lace wedding gown
danced in the wind grasping
to the frame of Betsy K.
Waiting impatiently for her
groom to be, the last minutes longer
than her sixty years of life.
The minister wore a groove
into the old stone floor of the
church puffing heartily.
Her veil erupted upwards
in the wind like smoke escaping
a bonfire lit by a lunatic.
Someone in the congregation
coughed as Nelly Feinbaum
tapped a song onto the pipe organ.
Betsy looked at the empty road
cutting a field of corn in half
the sun began to sink low into it.
She gazed into her bouquet watching
the Lillies of the Valley dance
in the breath of the heavens as she called it.
A truck pierced the horizon
stumbling down the dirt road followed
by a funnel of dust creeping like a cat.
The groom sat in the truck bed
his white suit covered in an ebony
pattern of oil and grease flowers.
She faced her dalmatian fiance
his hazel eyes big, brimmed with
innocence and guilt combined.
A family-filled car had broken down
you see, and the father had an arm
in a sling they were in desperate need.
The happy quartet drove away as the
groom's car battery drained itself
as the radio played Johnny Cash.
The truck plucked him from the road
and became a lightning bolt towards
the weathered overgrown church.
The explaination lingered in the air
as the bride gazed at her husband to
be her face cracked in two with a smile.
The bride collected black from him
and she danced her fingers around her
silk gown matching his pattern on herself.
The speckled couple hugged and
kissed as her veil wrapped itself around
them both in a lace embrace.