Piece Of Cake

Wedding Memory


My daughter will be for dinner tonight with her new husband.
On the table a crystal vase holds a fading bouquet of yellow roses,
daisies, baby’s breath and Queen Anne’s lace.

A thunderstorm brought the ceremony out of the garden
into the sunroom where candles glowed.
Two flower girls scattered yellow and pink petals.
Vows were spoken that have passed through generations
like ivy following a wall, brick by brick.
The kiss at the altar was long and real.
The bride danced with her father, wiped his tears.
Her grandmother, pink and blue scarf carefully knotted
over her blue suit, smiled and called her by name.

But three days later when I visited assisted living and said,
“Wasn’t it a wonderful wedding, Mother?”
Her grandmother raised her head like a horse from the hay
and asked, “Was I there?”