The Bride Poem by Mark Heathcote
The Bride
Hewn from the strata of galaxies demure
inured with witchcraft heartbreakingly, pure.
The bride wears her wedding dress like it's haute couture.
Dressed in her heavenly gown made by Channel or Dior.
A vision poised, sumptuously dressed and veiled
she - supernatural swan-like sailed
stunningly intoxicating like-a-little creature divine
takes the groom's arm and whispers thou shall be mine.
The bride of nature is loved by all of us. She is really beautiful. The poem on her is also beautiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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6/11/2026 2:34:54 AM # 1.0.0
Beautiful expressions......................