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.