The confetti lay forgotten.
Full boxes
treaded into carpet and floorboards.
Unused.
Swept up and thrown away
to join pristine white dress in greasy blue skip.
A dress never seen by congregation's eyes.
The tables place setting untouched,
never to be dislodged by well-wishers elbows.
Scarlet velvet seats unflattened by
Aunt May's own ample cushions.
All still prepared for spectres
to act out the wedding that never was.
She waited, of course.
She waited half an hour, he's been delayed, she thought.
An hour, surely someone must have called?
Ninety minutes, where's the best man? Why isn't he telling her the worst.
Two hours, how could he? Leave me ditched at the altar.
Nerves to worry to concern to...
The police officer walked towards her across the dance floor.
Sombre steps, instead of the first waltz.
Sorry. He said.
There's been an accident.
She heard the words: car - junction - lorry -
on the scene - unable to save.
After the last guest left, she cried.
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