One by one seven couples step gallantly
to the tempo of Pachelbel’s Canon in D.
My brother, a groomsman and I, a bridesmaid
lead the way
arm in arm.
The little princess follows shortly behind
scattering a trail of red rose petals.
The whole room turns and there she is.
An ivory gown,
sheer veil,
with hair neatly pinned up in a loose bun.
A vision of beauty;
my big sister.
My tears build up as my father takes her hand from his
and places it into the hands of the groom.

The ceremony comes to a close
and leads to the reception.

A gorgeous June afternoon,
sun shining, breeze dancing, cicadas buzzing.
The Redfield Estate at the Grove is a picture from a film.
The grass as green as emeralds,
the flowers all in bloom.
Inside is a sea of roses with linens to match.

Pictures, pictures, and more pictures,
for scrapbooks, albums, and walls.
Speeches and toasts by family and friends.
Then
dinner, dessert, and dancing.
I dance and dance, never wanting the DJ to play the last song.

The perfect wedding came to an end.
It is now a memory
as I pass the pictures hung in the hall.