Third finger left hand


They hoped for a sunny day
the punctual
Crossed fingers for the functional
The deranged Father
Looked sad
Momentarily, as though he knew
That suppressed emotion,
His passed on poison
potion
To daughter
A leading groom
He arranged it all
Yes daughter, a groom
I present
In disorder, confused but nagging
In doubt
A blind dance
silent shout
the popular tunes
The aisle stalk
The ‘I do’ talk
a HP scar
Already forming,
Yawning
the predictable prospect,
Of paying it all back
roll
the
Sermon speak
Gamble, sick and sided
The bell chime leech
The man will preach to anyone
If you pay him
to
Ramble under arch
Combine couples far apart
Of the cardboard confetti church
That no one believed .
they only grieved there
tears found corners
whilst many said the prayer
the realistic
still lips, quipped, that
It was futile-
understanding nothing but material,
lace white and draped
layers of icing
the procession
marched on the night
the drunken dancing
Merely masked
the question

How long?



(C) Peter Crompton 2007