My Son's Bride - by Vivien Hampshire

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I'm losing my boy
And I know that I oughta
Be jumping with joy
That I’m gaining a daughter
But...
 
The hemline's too high above the knee,
She says wearing white is hypocrisy,
There’s no sign of a veil to hide her face,
And she’s gone for fur instead of lace.
She looks bemused when I mention a train;
Says they’ll be heading for Greece on a plane.
No, it certainly wouldn’t be my kind of dress,
But will she make him happy?
Yes.
 
I'm losing my boy
And I know that I oughta
Be jumping with joy
That I’m gaining a daughter
But...
 
She says hats you only wear once are a waste,
She has unruly hair and unusual taste.
Shouldn’t we be spending money (and hours)
Selecting the venue and picking the flowers?
But it's Registry Office, a girl as best man,
Pie and chips at the pub, and no seating plan.
Whatever goes on in her head? I can’t guess,
But will she make him happy?
Yes.
 
I'm losing my boy
And I know that I oughta
Be jumping with joy
That I'm gaining a daughter
But...
 
She's having cup cakes in place of three tiers,
Champagne is standing aside for cold beers,
And where the diamond should be on her hand
There's a miniscule pearl on a thin pewter band.
I can’t say it’s quite what I would have chosen,
But I bite my tongue. My smile is frozen.
She's not who I'd imagined, I have to confess,
But will she make him happy?
Yes.


By Vivien Hampshire
Ickenham, London

This poem was selected as a winner of a nationwide poetry competition run by Marriott Hotels in March 2011.