In the last pew of the church,
Jim fidgeted between parents.
Lifting himself on small hands,
He struggled to behold what lay
Over the sea of combed toupees
And marveled at winking glitter
Twinkling on the blushing bride.
The organ trumpeted its song
Upward to trembling beams.
When the procession stopped,
A dull voice sighed and prayed
As the audience rustled in pews.
Jim tugged at his tight collar,
Noted red spreading on cheeks
From heat of six hundred people.
Women with bulky hats fanned,
Admired the pair, their passion,
Recollected more youthful days.
Men with gray brows recalled
Quick heartbeats at altars where
Each of them kissed his bride.
Soon, the whole crowd rose,
Stowed teary memories away;
But the bachelor of five years,
Yawned, gloomy over sitting
And listening to a dreary priest.
Jim crossed his arms, vowed
To attend weddings nevermore.