A poem to sensitize those people who enter marriage ceremonies with the sarcastic intention of castigating the couple about to be blissfully wedded.
Shouldn't he have put a trifle more of powder on his cheeks - as they appeared an edge too shoddy for spinning intrigue?
Shouldn't she have dipped her face in pure lemon extract; in order to render that irresistibly profound glow over her otherwise bedraggled contours.
Shouldn't he have opted for that clandestinely charming hair dye - transforming his unruly strands from a nondescript black to a majestic red?
Shouldn't she have left her hair uninhibited and ravishingly waving in exuberant wisps of breeze - rather than stingily tying them up into an impoverished
Shouldn't he have worn those royally swashbuckling sunglasses - that would've blown away the daylights of every nimble damsel in poignant vicinity?
Shouldn't she have left her eyes beautifully bare and in their rustic glory - rather than unnecessarily smudging them with abominable mascara.
Shouldn't he have stringently clipped the unruly strands of hair protruding from his ear - employing the services of the most contemporary of saloons?
Shouldn't she have worn earrings of aristocratically pure gold - rather than letting traditional threads of simpleton black dangle languidly and dulling the ambience which seemed already dead.
Shouldn't he have worn that pompously purple scarf round his neck - that'd have displayed his gentlemanly streak; lost as of now in the horrendously hardcore business suit?
Shouldn't she have chosen a dress which was more in snobbish satisfaction rather than the gaudy color that she now wore - unleashing her unceremoniously slapstick
Shouldn't he have worn feather shaped boots perpetuating that true tryst with royalty which he richly deserved - rather than transgressing on the reception stage barefoot to create a mockery of a hype?
Shouldn't she have worn queenly slippers that vividly demonstrated her fantastically proportioned height - rather than create a pandemonium with her noisy high-heeled sandals - that made her shoot ridiculously through the roof.
Shouldn't he have worn plain rings of eclectic sizes that set the night ablaze with gaiety and style - rather than deliberately demonstrating the masculinity of his bohemian hand?
Shouldn't she have left her palms pristinely barren as she'd come into this planet - rather than embedding them with a motley of every conceivable tattoo available over the shelf - to stand out amidst the celebrities of the town.
Shouldn't he have shaved the parsimoniously extruding stubs of his beard and moustache - rather than appearing like a clown who genuinely wanted to entertain people flocked around?
Shouldn't she have puffed fragrant powder on her face atleast - rather than deserting it with nonchalant soap - and then let mosquitoes find a feasible space to feast on her demure silhouette.
Shouldn't he have carried a princely pen in his waist pocket - rather than deplorably borrowing the same and then squandering in shame - to sign all associated legalities?
Shouldn't she have meticulously fitted a purse to make her attire look enthralling- and at the same time appear a perfect symbol of societal sophistication - complete.
Shouldn't he have brandished a traditional sword to blend in magnificently with his jubilant persona - rather than walk the red carpet with shoulders hunched in the unpredictability of tomorrow?
Shouldn't she have built her stage as an invincibly alluring helipad - ushering in a high powered aircraft straight into the avenue - and leaving photographers / relatives in stunned delight.
Shouldn't he have played the perfect host of melanging with the crowd which had come so optimistically from remote corners of the town - displaying some hospitability - rather than sonorously contemplating as to when these spurious formalities would come to an abrupt end?
Shouldn't she have stayed as silent as white ice that personified high class dignity at its best - rather than giving her piece of cynical advise interspersed with abuse towards those who'd come uninvited.
Shouldn't he have hugged her first - rather than fiercely tugging at his rather atrociously oversized suit - in mere apprehension of it leaving his frail silhouette anytime?
Shouldn't she also have hugged him first - rather than adjusting her morosely flattened make-up - which in the process became more pathetically beleaguered than ever before.
Hey Folks. Its time for you to involve yourself into other and better pastimes.
There they were - both of them innocently about to enter into threads of holy matrimony - least bothered about their appearances today, when the most important thing in the world to them was to marry by God's grace,
Therefore give them a break. Let them get married.
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"Let Them Get Married." Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 17 Feb. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/50401/let-them-get-married.>.