A white dress
Swirling and twirling
with black waves of sorrow
and a woeful intent
Ending just at her knees, unfit for winter
was the best she had
Giving her a sense of despair
one she could not share
It called to her in the night
hoping, pleading, praying
to fulfill its purpose
She wanted nothing more than to give in
it whispered to her, giving its plea
“put me on, walk out the door”
Yet she still had hope
the light of her might
gave strength to hold on
She would not wear it
She would not walk out the door
She would not lay in the snow
She would not die at her own hand
Not tonight.