cold feet (or the cliché before marriage)
lush gardenias bowing
under all their weight
silver lined plates bearing
exotic cuisines from all over the world
taffeta trains billowing
along a trail of cherry tree petals
pizzicato of anxious violins
to the relentless murmur of guests
all marching down the aisle
of can i’s
i can’t’s
should i’s
i don’t know’s
towards the dapper i do