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I see a groom holding the hand of his bride.
I feel the joy and bliss that flows in the heart of couples during such immaculate moments.
When the crimson sun rose like a rose,
My heart fluttered like the flaps of the rouse bird,
For with it, it brings a gift to me so dear,
That neither stress nor ten can blot out.
For nothing is so precious like a bride,
Being brought home in one's prime,
To feed the empty vault of a man's pride.
Gracefully she walks down the pew,
And so many she makes their worries few,
For such immaculate walk is not new,
But it brings the glory every single time anew.
For today I no I do grow for being wed,
Like a rose seeded in a fertile bed,
For although it petals may shine red,
So white and pure is she that I wed.