A wedding poem
I pulled out my wedding dress
the other day,
the dress we’d spent hours to perfect —
For just one day.
It was stained
dirt and grass clinging,
Attracted to the white —
In just one day.
Tediously, I began to clean
And wondered —
Is this how I appear?
To Christ, who’s robe I wear?
Once spotless, I begin to stumble
Fall, and soil,
the White Garment, His gift?
But no, for His robe
Righteousness, bright, unstained
Remains, nor depends on me.
Un-stainable, I fall, it remains
White — for He
ne’er falled, nor stumbled
Gifted me such a robe —
Undefiled —
For that day.
