The Cherubic Bride

It started in the garden of her house.

She shut her eyes behind a blindfold

With a small furtive peephole

To see through the dark

The light, she owned with pride.

Like a cherub, she flew all over!

But when she removed the blindfold

Time passed, and the cloth did not fit her eyes anymore

The lens of playfulness became blurred

As the eyes of reality shouted "Game over!"

The dawn escorted the divisions of day, no more garden of play!

Before the sun rose, she bathed in cold water,

Covered her face, for the naughty sun might 'spot'

Still, she sat near the burning stove,

Learning to cook and serving the hungry bellies of home.

Oh, how the sun burnt her 'protected' wings!

The sun is about to set, 

She ran down the shops to buy pearls

That decorate her like a fair doll

Who is but afraid of the setting sun.

The Cherub, young, rosy with wings ripped off!

The moon has now shown up;

And the daughter is ready as a bride,

With double powder and pearls 

To shine more than the moon.

Atleast, for the day!

With heavy and tired foot,

She walked down the aisle,

With a smile flickering across her face,

Like the blooming rosebud, yet in dread of its unknown gardener.

Here comes the Cherubic bride, beauty without wing!

To the Man, standing at the altar

With a garland, and a blindfold in the other hand

One for the angel, 

And the other for the wife.

And thus ends the story of the Cherub in the garden.