In her wedding dress, white as a dove
Her hand so soft, in that satin glove
As I stood on the altar
I thanked the heavens above
For blessing me, with my one true love.
The union you are about to enter today is the closest and most tender of all relationships in which human beings can come
I have traveled the world, many a place I have been
But never have I been happier than to be beside
The woman whom I made my bride
But now to the other side I must go
Three weeks or less, the doctor told me so
Though bewrought with fear, I must persevere
To be stronger for those whom I hold dear
Love never fails, never fades out, never becomes obsolete or comes to an end
I picture her leaving
The doors unlocked for me
She had come to understand
That I’d always forget my key
I picture her making
Double the food she needs
And then realizing
I’m down feeding the weeds
I picture her looking
At the photographs from a happier time
Always together
My hand in hers, her hand in mine
I picture her alone
In a house now cold
Reminiscing of the plans we made
For when we both got old
I picture the situation in reverse
Of if my wife had left me first
How I must live in sorrow
In a life just waiting for tomorrow
Will you love her, comfort her, honour and keep her in sickness and in
health, and forsaking all others keep her and only her as long as you both shall live?
I remember our wedding vows,
That if she’d live a thousand years
Then I would live a thousand, less one day
To spare me of the tears
I should have asked what she would have thought
But she makes nary a peep
But it is to be expected
Since I decapitated her in her sleep
You may kiss the bride
**Written as a defensive relex against a rather touching poem I read - Left Alone at Eighty by Alice Robbins