June 2021
June is the traditional bridal month. It is Spring at its best. The sun, not to hot, shines on the love and interaction between our hopeful couple. Yes, I felt this way over 25 years ago and I understand more every day that we are together because of her wisdom. This poem is written in an “ottava Rima” format. There is no better way to express the highest point of love then in this Italian form of poetry. If you have any comments or poems please email me: www.larryspiro@aol.com. Include permission to publish if you are so inclined.
Bride
Lawrence Spiro (Revised 2014)
Love lays ready her gallant heart to him.
He approaches with care and touches her,
both now and forever in light or dim.
Quondam visions yield to her beauty pure,
waifing warmly past over ageless streams.
Two to be one under G-d each demur.
Nature eventuates her lifelong dreams.
They move together, all is as it seems.
He looks up to her, he echoes his plea.
His time moves instantly from March to Spring
yearning that she will now set his heart free.
In his moist hand is love’s eternal ring,
as the rose bud beacons the honeybee.
She answers the question to all these things
with hand extended, excited for this,
she says yes. He laughs, they embrace and kiss.
Cleaved as one, they exchange words worth singing.
With beating heart, he trembles with sweet joy.
She smiles long of this new beginning
knowing now stands a man erstwhile a boy.
He swoons with countless thoughts not speaking
about summer then fall leaving doer.
She was taught about all of the seasons
all the promises and all the reasons.
