White Lie

The starched white collar of a rented suit
Scours the back of his tender,
Sun scorched neck.
His smile sits stiffly,
Like an uninvited guest at a wedding,
Who is perched uneasily on an unyielding seat.

The weight of shame sinks in his stomach.
Trepidation tightens and tugs at his throat,
Like a rented bow tie.

His daughter, dressed in the snowy
Flimsy film of hand stitched silk,
With fingertips sore from a thousand
Accidental stray points of a needle,
Has offered her last desperate dollar.
Now she strains to sell the facade.

His invitation to her wedding,
Escorted by a packet of cumbersome cash.
Now stuffed in his pocket
With a pack of cigarettes,
Beneath the commanding weight of
A borrowed cummerbund.

The destitute father,
His pocket brimming with hired pride,
Bars his heart from resentment
For the bride.