The Ribbon

Okay! This is a poem i wrote when i was stressed due to the ongoing mathematics examination... i had tied up my hair in a ribbon, which gave me this idea.. i hope you like it. Suggestions are welcome..!

The ribbon,
silky, red and gold,
was her favourite, even then.
She used it to tie her long, wavy hair,
adding other ribbons
to match her dresses.
Then one day, suddenly,
she grew too mature to care
about a little ribbon,
when she heard a strange sound,
that of her own heart--
how it became unsteady,
(or so it seemed)
when he looked at her!
Now, lost in his thoughts,
she tied and untied the ribbon
around her fingers,
unconsciously,
gazing at something hidden behind the winds...

That day, when they met under the tree,
the ribbon held her curls loosely.
Heuntied it softly, saying
he liked her hair loose better,
and tied it, a flower,
on her ring finger.
It became her way too,
whether it matched her dresses, or not.

The ribbon is still there,
threads loosening at the ends,
holding his letters to her together;
the letters,
from promising his eternal love,
to complaining about the weather,
and finally stating that it was all over;
not a dream, bot a reality
they had revelled in for too long...

The ribbon is old,
but it still has the power
to move her to tears,
to make her try hard
to smother her sobs
in the orders of her mother
in the porch, to the servants,
to make all things perfect

for her wedding.