Roses Are Red Poems · Love
Roses Are Red (A Toast in Eight Lines)
Roses are red, the aisle has been walked,
the rings have been fumbled, the toasts have been talked;
now comes the part that the cameras won't see:
ten thousand small mornings of "you" and of "me."
Roses are red, and the cake will be gone,
the band will pack up and the guests will move on —
but long after petals and toasts disappear,
may you keep what you promised the world gathered here.
Original poem © QuillOak — free for personal use.
“Roses Are Red (A Toast in Eight Lines)” by The QuillOak Editors — quilloak.com/poems/roses-wedding-toast
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