TO MY WIFE
On petals of flowers your path was lain;
By the hands of maidens, their joy plain.
You walk to me, dressed all in white;
Your veiled eyes glowing like a beacon in the night.
A proud man beside you, walks tall and straight;
For this day ends, a dreaded yet anticipated wait.
“Who gives this hand?” the minister does ask;
And in the beauty of the moment, the room doth bask.
“I give this hand”. Your father says loud;
With a tear in his eye, he stands so proud.
My trembling fingers fold around the hand he gives;
As the love pours forth from my heart where it lives.
My knees are knocking but my words are clear;
“With this ring, I wed this lady so dear”.
I lift your veil; your eyes are ablaze;
My heart beating fast, my mind in a daze.
“You may kiss the bride”, I hear someone say;
And I know, I was born for this moment, on this day.
By the hands of maidens, their joy plain.
You walk to me, dressed all in white;
Your veiled eyes glowing like a beacon in the night.
A proud man beside you, walks tall and straight;
For this day ends, a dreaded yet anticipated wait.
“Who gives this hand?” the minister does ask;
And in the beauty of the moment, the room doth bask.
“I give this hand”. Your father says loud;
With a tear in his eye, he stands so proud.
My trembling fingers fold around the hand he gives;
As the love pours forth from my heart where it lives.
My knees are knocking but my words are clear;
“With this ring, I wed this lady so dear”.
I lift your veil; your eyes are ablaze;
My heart beating fast, my mind in a daze.
“You may kiss the bride”, I hear someone say;
And I know, I was born for this moment, on this day.
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