The funny thing about clichés is that
sometimes they are true.
Such as: They Grow So Fast, and, You Don’t Know
All the Love You Have In You.
If asked before, I would have said
I loved my husband, who
would become your father, and that for him
anything would I do.
And I would not have lied, no, every word
I said would have been true,
and I do not love him less, and yet –
if it meant I could save you,
I would throw him to the wolves,
beneath a bus, into the blue.
Don’t worry, darling, he understands –
he would do it to me, too.
(This is not exactly an epithalamium, but at least it touches on marriage. Would it be so cheesy without the end-rhyme?)