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May 2016
What a special day I had today.
So special, and it was not even mine.

The sun was warming.
It was God's wind blowing.
And for once, we all were there,
and all our love was showing.
And the children
in the day,
they were laughing, having fun.
And everyone was smiling.
It was all I ever I wanted,
and it was not even mine.

My sister.
It was her day.
And yet the sun could almost die,
but for the radiant Patricia
could keep any heart alive.
Immaculate,
in white and lace.
Enchanting. Captivating.
The gods above did fall in love,
but she shall keep them waiting.

Her husband.
It was his day.
He thanked us just because,
we were who we were,
and he was who he was.
He was genuine in his embrace.
Sincere in his smile.
There beside my sister,
he seemed to strike a certain style.
I knew they would be happy.
This love will last forever.
I could feel it in my heart,
and it was not even mine.

I saw my mother.
She was smiling with a tear.
My father sighed and shook his head,
perhaps somewhere in yesteryear.
Here, witnessing the true event
of what pain and sacrifice are meant.
Knowing in some way she's leaving.
But, in marriage, true believing.
I wanted to laugh as well as cry,
and it was not even mine.

My sisters.
They all did contest.
Competing with the bride.
Resplendent.
They did look their best,
I still cannot decide,
if it was they that looked more beautiful
or more the day
and all the view.
And as I looked around at wide-eyed guests,
I knew that they did wonder, too.

My brothers.
All so strong and cool.
Among the guests,
so sure to fool.
Of four, three of us still *****.
We swear those words will not be said!
We congratulate.
We poke and jibe.
And yet we keep the truth inside.
We stop and think about our day.
We dream.
We hope its something like today.
I dream and sigh,
and want today,
though it was not even mine.

As we gathered for the photograph
I began to see my flaw.
This day that I had wanted,
it was no ones day at all.
For days that are this beautiful,
and this loving, I have learned,
are only lent to us by God,
and soon must be returned.
But we can take from it our memories,
and our dreams and friendships, too.
Patricia and Mike will take each other,
and a love that lives anew.
(To my sister Patricia on her wedding day)
Rustle McBride
Written by
Rustle McBride  Delaware
(Delaware)   
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