cold feet (or the cliché before marriage)

lush gardenias bowing

under all their weight

silver lined plates bearing

exotic cuisines from all over the world

taffeta trains billowing

along a trail of cherry tree petals

pizzicato of anxious violins

to the relentless murmur of guests

all marching down the aisle

of can i’s

i can’t’s

should i’s

i don’t know’s

towards the dapper i do

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