The Movie

William Stapleton

She brought a movie to the house to show.
An old Super 8 taken years ago,
on our wedding day
it was a world away, and in the flickering light
            I watched as somehow, time seemed to slow.

You were a vision there in yellow and white
on summer day, turning mellow August night
with the roses on the cake
what kind of man would I make?
I smiled, bewildered; tried to do what was right.   

Families gathered there all in the evening glow.
A song and then the moment, God was watching us, I know.
And I said “I do,” and then you said so too
The preacher spoke his part and made a sign and said a prayer.
            We walked out together holding hands, with rings to show.

Like in a dream my Dad before me on the wall
and Mom, your family, our friends long gone, and all
so real, just as they were back then.
My heart!  I strained my eyes to take it in.
Soon the flicker dimmed and shadows began to fall.

Fifty dollars, taken from that secret place
in the fold of my Dad’s wallet, where he kept it just in case,
was all we had that summer’s night as we clatter-banged away
down the road to life’s beginning; fire by night and cloud by day.
“Would you do it all again? I would! But sure a finer line I’d trace.”

That night I lay me down to rest next to you
and felt your breath so softly rise and fall,
my head upon your breast, your heart's true beat,
more real than any picture; any wall
“It’s now,” I thought, “But I’ve heard yester’s call.”


 Creative Commons License
The Movie by William Stapleton is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.