Now in the heart
of the dance floor—
father of the bride
and his ivory-skinned
raven-haired daughter
with doe-wide eyes
that still melt him.
Something being born today.
And something dying.
When it’s time to let her go,
he stumbles toward the crowd.
Taking their place—
the square-jawed groom
and his mother, beaming
up at him with every cell
in her being.
Gone—the college boy.
Here—a sturdy man.
Soon—a father.
And I, the childless,
observe these denouements
as if through a curtain.
Note the players swept by emotion.
Feel its force
even in the balcony.
