“Oh, what a wonderful wedding,”
Croons my best friend from across the table
“Yes, what a wonderful wedding,”
Swoons her worst enemy, agreeing,
Then, in unison strains, they both nod, decisive,
“Oh, yes, but what a shame,”
I blink, intrigued by the news ‘bout to break,
All whilst stabbing a fork at cake.
“The pure bride in white is a *****.”
They say, voices cacophonic and melodic,
“Her husband isn’t the one,
The one she hasn’t met yet,”
I sit between them, innocent,
Now utterly unengaged to the conversation,
Eating fondant; confounded; I don’t even know
Who the pure ***** bride in white is