Golden locks curl whimsically on her head
A metal band, tight, on the hand that wed.
With a furrowed brow and a sullen heart,
She stands, an emotional work of art.

Like dear Penelope, she waits for him
As he treks through himself, both good and grim.
A window before her, a wall behind,
Her vows of love are the ties that bind.

Too thick to turn back, she stands in His grace,
Pouring of spirit all over her face.
Through pane of glass, she spots Odyssey’s man,
Wavering in tides, unable to stand.

To her knees, she goes, golden locks to ground
A plea to God to bring him safe and sound.
For his armor is weak and war is long,
She stands in his stead until he is strong.