The Bouquet

The bride created her bouquet With seeming just-picked flowers, The pretty kind that benefitted From a day of showers. Her perfect simple long white gown Fulfilled part of its mission – To highlight those sweet blossoms In accordance with tradition. But this bouquet was different Since a secret it concealed, A tribute to her dad to whom The thought would have appealed. For wrapped around the clutch of stems, Right where her hands would touch, Was a necktie of her father’s Whom she surely missed so much. She didn’t advertise the fact, A private gesture; still, Just as touching as I’ve ever seen And think I ever will.