between ravening fingers.
scrape silk and lace.
Smiling sequined brides shine
beside spruce grooms.
Images describe bright colour schemes;
ribbons and roses
twisted into cunning, pink posies
pick out the chosen hues of the theme.
Six months to go,
and she’s eager to be
the apex of attention, and the envy of friends —
yet each time she sees her swain,
she swallows a sorry slug of doubt,
as, deep down, she knows
the magnetic attraction
was born in the beat
and heated blood of a nightclub,
now passion has flown
and she’s empty of love.
©Jane Paterson Basil