She made a lovely bride.
Wearing her white dress, she looked like a sexy cloud.
Her happy groom had their days planned out ahead of them,
As numerous and alike as the whiskers on his cheeks when he smiled.
Later, no one would admit to having invited the wolf--
To having brought the wolf;
Perhaps he brought himself, from deep in the forest's secret heart.
Up the aisle he came,
Right in the middle of the ceremony.
No one had a gun,
(it wasn't that kind of wedding)
And so no one knew a way to stop him.
He helped himself to a big fat bite of organdy and lace--
As if confusing the bride
With the wedding cake--
And half-dragged, half-carried her off to his sylvan hideaway.
Maybe her perfume attracted him.
Maybe she knew him before.
Maybe she knew him still!
She had only been standing there, trying to get married,
But the woman always gets the blame, yes?
The groom wept, then shouted,
"What do they want?"
Here is what we want:
In the morning, the bride crawled out of the wolf's den,
Her dress in shreds and tatters, bloody,
With scratches all over her skin and leaves in her hair,
Stinking to high heaven of wolf.
"Wow!" said the bride.
In a few years,
She will divorce the wolf
When he forgets her birthday again--
When he forgets to bathe or use cutlery--
When he drags home another big dead-ass elk, expecting her to turn it into pot roast.
But it will be all right.
There will be no kids.
In time, she will find somebody different--
More human, maybe.
Maybe even female!
Who really knows? But when that day comes,
One thing won't have changed at all--
She will make a lovely bride.
for dverse open link #36