So your wedding is in August
the month of harvest
and mysterious rites
hope you a reaping maturity
and smiling responsibility.
To wish you happiness on that day is futile
all brides are, flowers, music familiar faces and many, many kisses,
it’s only the groom who tends to look apprehensive as reality sinks in.
I’ll rather wish you contentment
and a bit of luck on the road ahead
it will be long and often bumpy
going through lush and parched land
and can be slippery
when the road is covered in black ice,
and when you come to that famous intersection
one road leads to the quick sand of misery
the other to harmony.
Four pillars keep the house of marriage standing:
love, friendship, trust and humour.
Never cheat on your spouse
even if no one knows
you’ll and that’s like fissure in a rock it gets wider
and will split you apart.
How do you know Mr. Poet?
enchantress of honeyed words,
because I failed.