An old poem

Traveling Bride

A dusty road to almost nowhere,
the woman in a white dress walks,
she breathes only clean air,
the spectating crowd only talks,

Her sparkling eyes see to the end of the trail,
no one picks up her tail, so it drags,
the crowd cheers for her to fail,
to her sides enemies wave their flags,

They mock her, because she believes,
that her Groom waits at the end of the road,
and once she gets ther, gone will be her grieves,
her Groom will take off the heavy load,

In her hands are the white roses,
with red like that of her Grooms Blood,
she watches close relatives wiping their noses,
as she prays for them to receive the flood.



I wrote this over a very long period of time, almost a year. I'm not sure whether to add to it or not. But it's here for you to read and try to figure out the meanings.