Bride To Be
Dripping onto roses her mind is clearly on her wedding day
Lying on a bed of nothing her heart wants to be carried quite away
We cannot reach her now for she is in the throes of a new life
Dreaming of the second she will be pronounced young Jack’s wife
Her moods often time flux between giddy and some kind of grief
Settle down and then spring up, few moments of authentic relief
We have been through this; she is our youngest daughter of six.
Jack acts like she is normal. Do you think he might be a bit thick?
Dripping onto roses her attitude is that we are in the way.
My husband takes it personally. He’s a man. What can I say?
I am busy in my garden, developing my own hybrids, too busy to care.
But when she is in bride-mode, there is destruction in the air.
Since when did a wedding have to be an expensive, lavish event?
We are not celebrities or sports stars. We do not own, just rent.
The prima donna is sleeping, so of course she cannot help with supper.
I feel sorry for Jack. Who will cook for them? Not this little puffer.
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