Here Comes The Bride

This verse is unrehearsed But marriages are planned With meticulous precision. The groom awaits his doom, Slightly stooped beside his friend But slightly taller than I recall. Perhaps perspective from my Distant stall deceives. But now the bridal march receives The bride who, with her train, Sweeps down the aisle With what I'd call indecent haste. She smiles deliciously to all From side to side And yet her smile to me Is not so wide. In fact it's somewhat quizzical. My puzzlement is greater Still than hers. For George's younger daughter, And John's intended bride, Was auburn haired but this one's blonde. What's going on? A change of plan? Has he found a last second substitute? My brain is destitute Of reason, and panic seasons my limbs With a sudden shaking As I lurch out of my pew. Well, what can you do, When you find you're in the wrong church?