To A.C. - Poem by Michael O'Rourke
Marriage held but just ourselves
For years and years on end
Then Nature cried- A son was born
We raised our glass again.
Who knows the wine of that first toast
With vows lingering on the glass
With hearts and eyes in nuptial bliss
Mindless of the years to pass.
Now 32 have blessed our vows
Each day defining a new “holy” role
The casks overflow with Cana’s wine
Sanctified by your faithful soul.
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