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Cold November Rain

Lilies and daisies, each in innocent white,

 

Adorned the venue, t’was a visual delight.

 

Rows after rows of chairs laid in wait,

 

Of guests for the occasion who were coming late.

 

A few were already seated, in their best clothes,

 

Faces had smiles; n hands, petals of rose(s).

 

The celebration made for an exciting trip,

 

The couple was uniting on a huge ship.

 

The November morning was bright, sunny and gay,

 

It held promise of being a lovely n pleasant day.

 

Gradually, the chairs filled, all were in,

 

Waiting eagerly for the ceremony to begin.

 

Wedding bells rang and the music began,

 

‘The bride is here’, the little kid ran.

 

She with her father, maids of honour in tow,

 

They came in slowly and stood in a row.

 

She was handed over, by her father to her ‘man’,

 

In the name of the Lord, the ceremony began.

 

‘The groom is lucky to have such a lovely bride,

 

And so was she, for her knight in armour, stood beside.’

 

Such were the hushed tones, whispers around,

 

‘They make a lovely couple’, such thoughts abound.

 

Vows were made, and the rings exchanged,

 

Suddenly there were clouds, the weather changed.

 

And lo, a tumultuous wave shook the ship,

 

The groom frowned and loosened his grip.

 

Anyways, the ‘man’ and his wife united in a kiss.

 

With thoughts of future, life full of bliss.

 

The kiss however, had an unprecedented effect on the groom.

 

The deck was suddenly filled with instant gloom.

 

Thunder gurgled and the lightning struck,

 

So down came the rain with drops of muck.

 

Who flee the altar, the first one who ran,

 

T’was alas a rat, not a man!

 

He deserted the ship, jumped into the bay,

 

‘Stood up’ on his wife, on their wedding day.

 

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She stood alone, aghast at the sight,

 

Her feet frozen, n face was sheet-white.

 

For she couldn’t believe, it just wasn’t true,

 

The audience scrambled, rushed for shelter too.

 

‘Groom’ off the ship, now the weather changed again,

 

What came down wasn’t muck, but clear rain.

 

In a matter of minutes, this also stopped,

 

But not before it drained her, of happiness robbed.

 

Wasn’t she better deserted today, than caged for life,

 

Having had to live with and called a rat’s wife?

 

The realization had struck, for she began to move,

 

She urged her guests to come back, n with her, groove.

 

The party began then, the feast served,

 

She was free again, with the freedom she deserved.

 

The rat saw from far, the celebrations in full swing,

 

He regretted his departure, now no one missed him.

 

Life laid ahead of him and her, their own once again,

 

Yet, cursed the act of nature, the cold November rain.

 

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