Julie McElhone #28 Devotion

We, rubbing noses,

marry in the road,

champagne hiccups,

privately commit,

seemly fit.

You say ‘Let’s go’

I hear ‘let go’:

it won’t do.

For the wedding I’d wear 

silk pyjama pants and a faux fur collar,

my hair piled high

and you’d say

‘Do you take me, baby?’

and I’d say,

‘Every night’.