If it had eyes and was able to speak,
I wonder what churchyard gate would ever repeat.
The rook jumping from memory to memory.
The bride is dressed in ****** white,
Well maybe,
Her husband seen passing before all suited and booted.
That rook senses his anxiety,
When he's leaving the church will he still be free?
Probably not.
Doesn't often happen that way.
The bridesmaids all clamour,
They're part of the glamour.
Escorting the maiden,
Over the threshold to married life.
Leaving together the newly united husband and wife.
That ****** rook,
A part of the photographers action,
Covering confetti all over her dress.
Her train chases her,
She's in training for a life,
The life as John Smiths wife.
A year or so, back they come,
Mr Smith,Mrs Smith and their tiny one.
Her name will be Laura,
They so adore her.
She is entered into the church and it's family.
A fluffy gown of pure silk,
Oh, that baby just spewed up her milk.
And the rook is watching their departure.
Landed in the christening pics.
(c)Livvi.