Convention. Poem by Mike Berriman

What is convention but a list of staid rules
Lines on paper composed by old fools
Customs and laws to guide and direct
To want and must do, will the lines intersect.

Today it's all changed, we do as we please
We marry on beaches, surf up to our knees
No presents thanks, been together a while
Just give us money they say with a smile.

Cookbooks we have many, it was your last gift
Our honeymoon fund will give us a lift
Place money in envelope and deposit in well
The secret is yours, promise not to tell.

Did I mention to you we were married before
We now live together in our home by the shore
Dad's funding my wedding, I demanded he pay
Open bar for all drinks and have a nice day.

MB 3/9/2011