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Jul 2013
If love is project or industry,
marriage may be no less,
but by strange flight, my heart will rise
the day I wear the dress.

All good poets write of artistry
and two hearts twining junction.
My fistful got a willing bet
we won’t make it past the function.

Then again, if history
is to be our shepherd,
there’s every chance, that by first dance
the spots’ll be wiped from the leopard.

‘Cos when we met, all past misdeeds
were put to rightful death,
and something in my stomach knew
I wouldn’t catch a breath -

- without it being needed
to fuel and fan the flame
of the one I had been waiting for:
the wise-*** to my dame.

Oh, how corny! What a gas!
The canary starts to sing
two cynical outsiders
exchanging vows and rings.

Well, ain’t that peachy, darling!
A direct hit from a near-miss.
So, let’s get us on the road to ruin
with some wedded bliss.
I wrote this for a dear family friend who, having been widowed in his mid-fifties, found someone to make him sincerely happy into his old, old age.
Miss Tabitha Devereaux
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