A gentle breeze brings perfume,through my window, of Honeysuckle and Wild Rose in bloom; Enticing me to look upon her beauty, Virtures of the Morning Bride,in June:
Sweet music comes from birds,in celebration, To signal that the Bride is close at hand; Then morning fog rolls in to briefly veil. The beauty,of the Bride,and here we stand:
Waiting for the first glimpse,as she enters, Breathlessly,we watch her make her way; Step by step,sweetly she entranses, With beauty,that no picture,can portray:
Then Father Sun rolls back the fog,revealing, The beauty of the Bride,beneath the veil; And I the anxious Bridegroom,stands in waiting, Eager to partake,of all the precious gifts, she will unveil: ~Bobby Smith copyright 1999 (3rd collection)
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