Father Of The Bride Poem by Jeannette Heywood

A gossamer vision you stand atop the stair.
Of this profound moment in time I'm acutely aware.
Gracefully down you glide, radiant, glorious, my daughter, the bride.

Emotions within me stir, gazing at you, my eyes blur.
Our last moments alone before you marry.
I grasp your hands in an effort to tarry.

In vintage car we drive, the guests all gasp as you arrive.
Standing proudly by your side, we look into each other's eyes.....
... as they strike up..... 'here comes the bride! '

We take that walk down the aisle.
I hold my breath and force a smile.
They say that I must give you away.
But you'll be mine forever and a day.

I hand you over to your Groom.
The beautiful flower that I watched bloom.
It's all over much too soon........
but I've known such pride as the father of the bride!