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Always for My Wife
The moonglow on the apple tree
silvers the blossoms I can see
and turns it into fragile lace.
A simile I can trace
back to the day you married me.
Resplendent in your modest,
the dainty veil which hid your face
could not conceal your innate grace.
Nor yet the mischief in your smile,
demurely walking down the aisle
up to the altar where I stood
waiting as a bridegroom should.
Such is the spell the moon can cast
reviving memories from the past.
To me you’re like the apple tree
mature; still beautiful to see.
I loved you then I love you still
the vows we made we still fulfil.
Now we are old we understand.
The symbol of the golden band.
we each placed on the others hand.
No power on earth can countermand.
Our promises made honestly
we’d love each other faithfully.
We did we do and we always will.
Ivor .e Hogg