Never apart, they managed to make marriage look like a fine and most beautiful art, always together, whatever the weather, side-stepping all of the usual mayhem seemingly ensuing, for their own gain as well as that of their many friends, not at all interested in following any trend
It worked from the very beginning, smiles all round only ever showing them to be completely winning, singing their love for one another from flagrant rooftops, hand-in-hand, nothing would, could stop their inevitable ascension to the top
They said that romance was dead, but this was terribly hard to see given over to all of his early romantic endeavours, his constructive decision to propose to her in gay Paris the one that took it over the edge, while on the ferry overlooking the lavishly lit Champs Elysees
Cheesey to some, for sure, but certainly something never prone to being forgotten owing to any kind of lapse in memory, happy-go-lucky while other young lovers relationships appeared completely lost at sea
Man overboard, cutting words, absurd and wasteful stuff, really
Of course, they would need to be terribly steely, to take the good with the bad, the smooth with the rough, it helped alot they being entirely emersed, nuts about one another, and neither was it her father that he asked for her hand, it none other than her doting mother, someone who had never gotten to relish her own relationship, proud of her daughter, she well-equipped to take to any kind of a rise in the tide
Forty-three years married now and still getting to enjoy the ride of their ‘young’ lives, with twenty grandchildren by their side, towing the line, there was never going to be any demise
He looked at an old picture of his bride and hoped his own children would give themselves and theirs an equal chance in life