Wedding Song

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My darling let us marry.
My darling let us wed
No banns no fuss—a witness and a priest—
No honeymoon—but straightaway to bed
There waiting in th'adjacent suite.
Go build your nest of cottonthreads and down—
A sleepy hedgehog wintering in brown,
A fungus nestling snug among the moss—
I shan't disturb. Together and alone
Dissolving in our liquid crystal screens:
Take to your bed, my darling girl, and poast.
I'll send you memes.
Can almost hear your smile—
Wry dimples on your cheek—
A-twinkling on the distal WhatsApp ping.
And send me yours. A thumbs-up or a laugh—
Or leave me there on read—
Whatever takes your fancy, girl—
Whatever helps you bide
Eternities of wintertide awhile.
Perhaps we'll meet. From time-to-time
Our paths might cross atop the winding stair,
Hulloing like two slightly startled ghosts.
Descending to the kitchenware;
A tallow candle lapping at the dark
And mucky dress of soot
And waxy tongues go dripping to the root.
I'd fix us up a treat—
Some midnight dripping slathering on toast;
A pinch of blessing salt—
And we shall feast. Dry crunching of the crust
Whose echoes fall through dull mechanic chimes.
The seasons, years. They fall about like crumbs
And squeaking of the rodents in the eaves.
And bear each other's midnight as our own
Until this length of living death do part.
My darkling girl, o darling let's be wed.