Sunday, July 17, 2011

18. Wedding Day

Lanterns floating overhead,
Bubbles dancing in our path,
This is the first night –
Sparkling laughter, sparkling champagne –
Sweat glistening; darkness dawns.

I am happy for them,
but I am removed from their joy, their love.
It is not that I am resentful –

Trees whisper, some indescribable perfume lifts,
Mingled smiles embalm the honeyed air –
Perhaps it is in their exuberant youth
and hapless grace
That I so clearly see the distance grow –
My lonesome self, twisted by the cynicism of time,
growing weary –
having only celebrated the joy
of others.

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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.

- Emily Dickinson