Here's a pome I wrote for my wife. Just to lighten the mood here a little.

Happily Ever After

How strange we'd think a man's biography
Which, in a thousand pages, vainly tried
To tell how he was conceived, and born, and weaned,
Then said, "And then he did some stuff, and died."
No less strange to me are those romances
Which tell, in breathless chapter after chapter,
Of courtship's flame, dashed hopes, and furtive glances,
Then end, "And they lived happily ever after."
For that, of course, is where the real tale
takes place; is what the courtship's all about.
The life after the bride takes off her veil,
Which the two of them together must work out.
The time, though short, that we've already spent
Beats any tale the poets could invent.

© 1999 Alex E. Riggle - All Rights Reserved.