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Thursday, June 05, 2003

She wasn't at the wedding
you said No
she was beautiful
eleven months old
testimony of our love
or so I thought
yet she wasn't at the wedding
carrying a posy in her
chubby brown fingers like
in my dream
the night before.
She'd toddled down the aisle
sticky fingers clasping
my train, her fragile wispy curls
bobbing up and down
as she tried catching the
mother of pearl sequins
she wasn't at the wedding, like -
she never existed
and I knew, even then
that the camera does lie.

©2003 sc.

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