I am having my wedding in paradise.
Not where we as children
dug for oysters, or built
our crumbling castles.
Nor with sandy bare feet
as the sun cascades its rays
of orange and pink streaks
across the horizon;
music of the shore
will not pipe my march.

The forever rolling
supple hills of Scotland
where shepherds served
there devotion to sheep
will not serve as my
eternal backdrop.

Instead, my hand in yours
I will be captured in
your gaze of adoration
blue and grave as the stone
inscribed by piety.

I guess, you could say all
those blessed with a mate,
have to, spent at least
their one-day in paradise.

Jessica Cochran-Eads