To My Hometown As I Leave

You wear time like an old wedding dress,
the white oak roots of your train
reaching down to the center of the world,
the red paint chipping off the farms,"the pink roses climbing the white trellis
of that yellow brick house on State Street.
Once I dug for gold in the creek
winding and trickling through town
but the gold is in the green -
the dandelions and the chickweed
lacing the ground like a veil.
Today, when the purple bluebells ring,
You will meet your king at the altar
And I will be your something borrowed
the sky your something blue.