Disgruntled Wedding Guest

As the guests arrive, I share a pew with myself. this wedding is a pain. A group of boys come, students of both groom and bride; my squinting eyes complain. Taking their spots assigned, each conscious of his cues, boys make me uneasy Each wears white roses on a jacket of chartreuse; my stomach feels queasy. My daughter stands watch, waiting for music to start; six voices harmonize. She spots her groom, I sense the racing of her heart, I see tears in her eyes. Escorted by two teens, behind the youngest lad, (I don’t cry at weddings.) she saunters down the long aisle to her son’s new dad, my Benjy has their rings. Vows are said; rings exchanged, the final song begun, boys with flags form an arch. The couple, then guests tramp beneath it one by one; this grandma does not march. written March 27, 2017 long form - free verse; short form - rhymed