Seashells and Rice

Little Ann touches down unsure of what's around
 She spend days upon that plane that she boarded by mistake
 She passes by the baggage claim
 Leaves it for another shameless thief to take aim
 Lock on and steal and invade her dreams
 She finds that happy ever after might not last forever after all
 Precious Ann settles down, settling for what's around
 She's spent so long living alone, no life's light in left unshown
 She says, "Excuse the mess that's left, perhaps it's best to dim the lights
 And expect this all to disappear or somehow never exist"
 She thinks that maybe she's not ready, maybe there's no afterwards after all
 And Ann follows the steeple and finds a line of people
 Holding rice and speaking nice with smiles that they don't mean
 She's gliding down the aisle, toward an alter or funeral pyre
 She finds it strange how irony does not escape
 She finds no epilogue, there might not be an afterword after all
 And she rose up from the table
 Like the unstable first steps from the cradle
 And the froze as the stepped on a seashell tearing off her toenail
 Stumbled as she fell
 Leaving herself all exposed
 She's waiting for another verse, something different from the first
 But it's worse to repeat an ending than to just go on pretending
 That the breeze may not be sweeter or the grass any greener after all