Like rivulets of rain on a window Conjoining into pools on the sill, Or like lines of cement between housebricks Converging at corners, These two families, separated by an aisle, At the point between two softly shaking hands Are colliding. We of the confetti and white roses, We of the jewellery and pressed trousers, We of the suppressed tears and aching smiles Are considering The beauty of a moment when gold envelops finger: The signal that an uncertain journey through love Is concluding.