The Wedding 
By La Belle Rouge 

White orchids in her hands
White tulle envelopes her body.
Tears fill her eyes as her mother places
the strand of pearls around her neck;
”These were my mother’s” she says
as she snaps the antique clasp. 

She’s so nervous, should she run?
Have other brides changed their minds
only a few feet from the altar?
Then she remembers his smile
the way they fit together perfectly
and their laughter blends so freely.

The tux is awkward the bowtie torture.
He’ll be so glad when this white day
turns to midnight blue of“ their night.”
He thinks of her slender finger
adorned with the gold band
and the sweetness of her altar kiss. 

She is a white angel in his eyes
as she moves down the aisle
to the classic sound of “Canon.”
He is a greek god of a man to her
as he waits to take her hand
and on their faces love lives

2/26/2007 La Belle Rouge

“Poetry, Soul Whispers”