Why is there no photograph
Of me with you
How sure of myself
Would I have had to have been
To ask a friend to snap us
With my arm around your shoulder
I don’t know where
You bought your outfit
Neither have I any understanding
Of how ridiculous you thought I looked
Or in what way you responded
To my father of the bride speech
You left me with my brothers
Went upstairs to our family bedroom
The ignominious hours were almost over
Though the everlasting damage was done
We were polite at breakfast, especially
With the remaining guests at table
A couple of days later
Back home in Devon
I wrote my own record
Of how I thought the day had gone
I didn’t capture any of these feelings
But yes, I do have a copy, somewhere
