That perfect night it all began,
With the glistening ring on her left hand,
A symbol of their perfect love,
Eclipsing the moon and stars above.
After Italian and some nice blush wine,
He asked her to be his Valentine,
From that moment ‘till the sea ran dry,
The sun grew cold, and pigs could fly.
He told her she sparkled like the sun in June,
As a violin played a romantic tune,
And she knew that the tingle she felt in her heart,
Was the sweetest sting of cupid’s dart.
Their love just wouldn’t settle for less,
And it would all begin with the perfect dress.
It must be white, because she’s pure,
But all the better if it’s haute couture.
Although she’ll only wear it once,
And the cost could feed a small village for months,
It’ll be just as she’d dreamt as a little girl,
Down to the very last little white pearl.
She’d need something old, new, borrowed, and blue.
Why? Well, no one really one knew.
He’d wear a sharp tux and a snazzy bowtie,
And he’d try his darndest not to cry.
Plans had begun a year before,
The blushing bride stepped through that door.
But she finally appeared, like Princess Snowflake,
His very own frosted, alabaster cupcake.
The guests watch sniffling and wiping their noses,
As she walks very slowly on petals of roses,
Scattered by little twin cherub-faced girls,
With perfectly golden ringlet curls.
She reaches him, he lifts her veil,
And thus begins the fairy tale—
After a man, with some disdain,
Stops to adjust her 12-foot train.
The little boy who bore the rings,
Offered them up like sacred things.
And so they were; that 18-K,
Would always remind them not to stray.
With a man in a robe, some “repeat after me,”
And a candle to show their unity,
Surrounded by flowers and satin and lace,
The bride and groom finally got to first base.
After a shower of rice and a hundred blown kisses,
They were announced to the room as Mister and Missus,
Then they giggled and swayed to Olivia coo,
Their perfect song, “I Honestly Love You.”
The two shared a moment of dramatic affection,
By their towering display of pastry perfection,
Of which each guest savored all of two bites,
While in forced conversation with the other invites.
The two’d asked every soul they knew,
To join them on this day to view,
This expression of their perfect love,
Under the smiling eyes of God above.
And later that night in the wee hours,
A janitor swept up their wilting flowers,
Then paused as he very briefly took aim,
And puffed out the dwindling union flame.
Meanwhile the bride was whisked by her groom,
Through the threshold of their perfect room,
And on this perfect day, with that perfect kiss,
Began their perfect lives of perfect bliss.