David Harris (18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)
For my wife
On our forthcoming 37th Wedding Anniversary on the 12th of September.
With the summer closing fast upon us,
we sing our September song.
How wonderful all the years have been,
our trouble no more than a ripple
on an incoming ocean tide.
As I fondly remember that day long ago,
when you consented and became my bride.
The choir sang Ava Maria;
I became the proudest man in the land.
I think I had more nerves than you.
My legs were like wobbling jelly,
and as I recall I almost muffed I do.
The sun was out and stayed that way,
throughout the day with your family and mine,
friends and other relations.
It was a wonderful time.
September sang to us a song,
even long after that day had long gone.
5 September 2007
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