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This is probably the most personal of my poems as it was written for my wife Helen while we were on honeymoon. In a way it was an easy one to write as it flowed out in a continuous stream over a few hours in a quiet corner of a Spanish Parador (hotel) lounge, sunk into the folds of a dark leather couch with a pen and scraps of paper and a few cups of coffee. It has only needed a few tweaks to refine what was written over twenty-five years ago, just days after our special occasion.
Helen comes from a faith background where no music is played in the church, instead the psalms are sung and she walked down the aisle with the words of the 100th Psalm (The old Hundredth) filling the building. Otherwise, the service was similar to any wedding except… I did have the best bride ever!
This will be the final poem I will use to support the work of the British Dyslexia Association. I would like to push the total up closer to the £1000.00 target mark so if the romance of giving has been inspired by the poem your donation would be most welcome. For those who have previously donated many thanks for your generous support.
My Bride
Sitting in the pew staring straight ahead,
My stomach tight, gripped by a certain dread.
With the man of God sitting in front of me,
He alone had the view; everything he could see-
See my friends, her friends, relatives and more,
From the choir’s niche to the entrance door.
I watched his eyes for they told all,
They told me that she was in the hall.
Then a hush descended on the house of God,
And he bade me stand with the slightest nod.
The Old Hundredth issued forth in vocalised style,
And I could see her beauty in his smile.
I knew she was gliding on her father's arm,
With that graceful stride and special charm.
On the cross aisle, behind the packed back row,
For I watched his neck and head inclining so.
I knew when she turned and started towards me,
I couldn't look, but with his eyes could see.
Her radiance I could now see in his smile,
An appreciative murmur I could hear all the while,
As I felt her coming closer by each singing row,
His head tracking her, his face of pleasure aglow.
Seven, Six, Five, Four and then row three,
Now I could hear her silk rustle close to me.
I looked away at last from that reflective face,
I turned for my own view of my Princess of Grace.
A simple sculptured gown, with a veil to hide those eyes,
But through it she must have seen my delighted surprise.
And my heart leapt and it choked me with pride,
Did anybody, anywhere....ever have such a bride?
Her tall lithe figure gracefully curving in and out,
With the pure soft material flowing perfectly about.
Ivory white with a touch of Celtic gold brocade,
Her proud father at her arm and the bridesmaid.
But my eyes were for her alone as she appeared to glide
Those last few perfect moments to my side.
Up close now through that veil I could see,
Massive brown eyes pouring forth love for me,
And I poured it back from the depth of my soul,
We were coming together as one to make a whole.
And as such we turned back to that reflective face,
So that he could bond us forever in this holy place.
Jim Brown - October 1997
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