Walking down the aisle in her dress made of clouds

she is a living, breathing, angel.

Standing at the alter watching her approach

is like watching all the planets align.

When everyone’s in place and

I look in her eyes, I know

how I found my strength.

Her. Every sweet thing in life is made by her hand.

The officiant starts talking, but every word is

drowned out by her beauty.

I tune in right as the priest says,

“If you’re alive, you’re young”

Oh, what stunning words.

Life is better with her in it-

no no, she is life.

She is what makes it all worth the while.

Even on the lowest day that makes you want to

smash every pumpkin in the patch or the days that are centuries-long,

she is worth all of it.

The world after heartbreak is merely a scratch on the knee with her.

She taught every insecure bone in my body to grab confidence by the pack.

She gives me the slightest glance as the corners of her lips lift.