By Merlin Priyadharshini

She walks up the aisle
As the bell rings from the steeple,
Decked with fragrant roses,
Their scent infiltrating every senses.
She wears a dazzling white frock,
With a veil flowing from her goldilock,
A diamond necklace around her neck;
Her elegance makes each one peck.
Her pink lips and her smoky eye
Intoxicates senses like rye.
She walks holding her father’s hand,
Ready to wear the wedding band,
With a bouquet of roses;
To answer the chaplain’s poses.
Musicians play the ‘Bridal March’ symphony
To greet the angelic bonnie.
The choir sings, “I vow to thee –
My Country,” as she glows with glee.
Her cheeks are rosy, flustering,
Her eyes in joy are glittering.
She walks up to her love,
To make the eternal vow.
As the clock chimes,
She wakes up rime;
Thinking of her dream,
Her eyes radiating leam.
She rings up her man
To tell of her sweven.