The Last Walk...

I held your finger and the path seemed endless;
Small steps I took knowing you were with me;
And now as I walk the last walk, my hand hooked onto your arm
The path seems so short and I wish it would never end.

A tiara of fresh flowers rests comfortably on the crown of her head. Black tresses cascading behind her. A hint of moisture lurking in the depths of her bottomless almond eyes. She smiles to hide it all. The white of the gown can't match the purity of the moment. She glances to her right. He smile's a weak smile. She tightens her grip on his weak arms, the arms that have been so strong for so long, the arms that have lifted her up from the lowest of lows.

The first step again. The first of the many last steps that she would take with her hero. The holy temple resounds with angelic hymns. Church bells sing their own song. They rhythmically progress. At the end of the aisle waits a prince that would take his princess away for good. He would if he could lift her up like he always did and take her back. But sometimes there is no turning back and so he moves on. He knows she is happy and so he moves on. Tears push against the lids of his old eyes like the unruly sea pushing against the dams, but he moves on. He sketches a vivid image, with his mind's eye, of the tiny bundle of happiness that he once held. He wishes his embrace could be her world once again. But tiny bundles like her were meant to be given away and so he moves on.

A hundred pair of eye balls pierce their gaze on her. Another hundred mouths hush and whisper to each other. But she hears nothing. Numbness has taken over. Ahead of her stands the man she loves the most in the world. Beside her stands the man who loves her beyond compare. Why does she have to leave one arm to hold the other? Couldn't she get it all? But she knows she cannot and so she moves on.  The fragrance of her old man tugs at her heart. She knows, so well, that fragrance. The fragrance that accompanied the hug and made her feel everything could  be fine again, the same fragrance that accompanied the good night kiss she secretly stayed awake to cherish every night. In moments she would have to part with it forever. But she knew  that every flower withered away and took with it its fragrance. The vase had to accept a new flower with a new fragrance and so she moved on.

Before they know it they have reached the end of a beautiful journey. One last glance, one last smile, one last touch...

So fast I outgrew your arms, like an oyster outgrown by the pearl;
But no matter how old I get, I'll still be your little girl...