2
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in ever raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
3.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
As he ended, water blurred his vision and the lines ran together. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her porcelain skin. The priest continued the ceremony, and they exchanged rings.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Cheers echoed through the massive church. He wound his fingers in her wild hair and kissed her, careful to only show a small portion of the passion he felt. Keep the kiss PG, please, Enzo. Her request echoed, and he slipped her the barest hint of tongue before he pulled away. The flush in her cheeks and the adoration in her gaze told him he’d done it right. They turned to face the church, and he walked down the aisle. Finally, he’d claim what was his. As they exited the church, they found themselves surrounded by falling flower petals and bubbles. Covering her mouth, she shook her head.
“I can’t believe you did this.” The white Cinderella pumpkin-style horse and carriage decorated with lights, and led by two white Clydesdale horses had been another surprise. They were only going to do this once, and he wanted it to be right. Her mother had mentioned this being a childhood dream, so he’d pulled a few strings.
“You like it?”
“I love it.” She kissed his lips sweetly. “And you.”
He helped her up the stairs and climbed inside, shutting the door.
“Finally have you alone.” He kissed her as the carriage began to move. “I got you something,” he said as he unbuttoned his shirt.
“More?” she asked.
“When I told you I was going to spend the rest of our lives making up for the mistakes and making you wait, I meant that shit.”
“I don’t need all this.”
“No, but you deserve it, so you’re going to have it. Get used to it.”
He peeled back his button down, and she gasped. “Enzo?”
‘She walks in beauty, like the night’ was scrawled across his collarbone for the entire world to see, in elegant, yet masculine script.
“This poem has always been you in my mind.”
“But you’ve had the stars since you were eighteen. It was one of your first pieces—”
He nodded. “Never doubt how deep my love for you runs. It took me a long time to become the man you needed.”