Path

They stood in front of us
holding hands, stumbling over vows,
giving their lives away
as if they had a clue what their
lives would be, who they would be,
a dozen years hence,
thirty, more. They'd change.
Grow. Grow up, maybe. Grow apart,
drift a little further away from each
other on the path of life.
And maybe love would keep up with them
and maybe not. Love might
stub its toe on a rock, or need to catch
its breath, and there they'd go, walking off
into the sunset. When they'd
stop and look back, they'd wonder
where love was. Too late to go
back and find it in the dark. The road
had plenty of pitfalls while
it was day--they'd never make it now. 
Not without injury.
Better to rest a bit. Wait until morning,
after a tasty breakfast, wiping
the sleep from their eyes.
They'd find the view less rosy than 
the day before, but still, the road would
seem fine, just fine. They couldn't see the fork
ahead just yet. Love might show up 
in time to guide them in the same 
direction, or it might not. Two people let in
enough distance between them,
they just naturally follow separate roads
that may lead to even better
destinations than the one they planned
and promised years ago. Up to them, I suppose.
Too late to warn them now, to tell them
to keep holding hands with love from the start.
To not let it get out of sight. To wait for it,
if need be. We've been down the road
ourselves. We could have warned them 
over cake and champagne but they wouldn't
have heard us. The music was too loud,
and you were snacking at the buffet table
while I twirled, dancing the night away.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2012

I can't begin to explain this. I was thinking about marriage and planning to go in one direction when I took a fork in the road myself! Sometimes the words write themselves the way they want to be written.  I was surprised by the sadness and wanted to tell the young couple to go right or left, but go together...but that's none of my business, now, is it?