Lisa Rhodes (Born 1962 / Manhattan, New York City)

This year won’t presumably pass
Without you letting me know
Just when the wedding bells
Ring for us.
Is it in the Spring when the tufts
Of golden grass paint shadows of us
Making love beneath its’ tall slivers
Basking until dusk?
When do the wedding bells ring?

I clearly can hear,
The staunch steeple bells
Ringing back then boastfully forth,
Quickly lachrymal loud
Resonating across the Hudson River
Where the sunset crests above the pink
Hem in the horizon.
When do the wedding bells ring?

The steeple looks tremendously
Towering all covered with crenulated
Snow. New born chicks cuddle covetously
Above a roof drainage pipe,
Arduously awaiting a mothers’ breakfast find.
When do the wedding bells ring?

Will God allow blind birds
To be dizzy gloriously soaring,
Across the silver cloned clouds
With their songs impassioned
On the tops of floating flower beds
Dripping in indelible ink?
When do the wedding bells ring?

A parched tear crinkles,
Rose petalled fragrants ooze,
Egg yellow pollen imprints purple,
and silken stamens capture breath
So intimately when pressed and preserved.
Are they a photograph of love?
When do the wedding bells ring?