The Wedding Handkerchief
How long have you been married they ask? It’s something not measurable in time…
Romance begins as a muslin handkerchief so fine,
With lace at the edges and silk in each line,
A whisper of fabric, just lightly starched,
Ironed and pressed where young hearts have marched.
It folds with a grace that lovers may know—
Corner to corner, in soft evening glow.
Two bodies entwined in a seamless embrace,
The hush of new passion in delicate lace.
But time is a tempest with fingers of fire,
It scorches, it crumples, it tangles desire.
There’s no set direction, no line to follow,
Each moment is sharp, each echo is hollow.
A spill may appear on the muslin so light
Do you cleanse it with care, or cast it from sight?
Some trade it for tissues, disposable things,
Unmoved by the memories that old fabric brings.
The iron of life can press too severe,
Flattening passion, once supple and clear.
It shrinks in the wash of resentment and fears,
And wrinkles with worry, with silence and tears.
Yet still in the lace, love’s filigree twines,
In patterns too subtle for modern designs.
A breakfast in bed, now rushed and undone,
By duties and logic and work that must run.
The corners may miss when we try to refold,
No longer aligned like the stories we told.
One reaches in longing, the other retreats,
As time misaligns the rhythm of beats.
Do we toss what is worn for a fabric brand new,
So crisp it might cut where the old one once drew
A softness, a fragrance, a warmth from the past,
Is newness too sharp? Can old comfort outlast?
That handkerchief, tattered, holds more than just thread,
It carries sweet whispers of all that was said.
It cradles the scent of the days now behind,
The laughter, the sorrow, the dreams once entwined.
So ask of your heart what it’s aching to do,
Keep holding the old or reach for the new?
Romance is not lost when the muslin is worn,
It lives in the love that both fabric and form
Still offer in softness, in memory’s hue…
Would you trade all that in for something brand new?
Or cradle the handkerchief, fragile yet true—
And honor the love that has carried you through?
Though passion fades and corners stray,
That handkerchief asks us to stay
For stitched within its aging grace,
Are all the moments we can’t replace.
What a stunningly tender and profound poem—woven with such emotional intelligence and lyrical grace. It doesn’t just speak of marriage; it embodies it, using the metaphor of a delicate, timeworn handkerchief to explore the evolution of love through the seasons of life. Every stanza feels like a sigh from the soul, balancing the ache of time with the quiet, enduring strength of devotion. The imagery is rich yet restrained, evoking not just romance, but resilience—the kind of beauty that’s earned, not bought. It’s a gentle, heartbreaking, and ultimately hopeful reminder that true love isn’t always shiny and new; it’s the softness that remains after all the folding and unfolding of years. Absolutely exquisite.
Beautifully written. Marriage isn't just a date on a calendar, it's the story woven into that handkerchief. It starts with delicate beginnings, inevitable stains, wrinkles caused by life, but also the enduring and colorful threads of love that hold it all together. Time then softens the initial starch of the muslin, making it more pliable and less prone to tearing. It speaks to me that we gain a similar agility and resilience, bending rather than breaking with its challenges. Thank you for this beautiful reflection on the quiet strength of love and life.