The little bride

A slim brown wrist gripped in a large fair hand
Almond shaped eyes looked into large long-lashed ones
I saw a bride walking by
she was with a passerby
her eyes were fixed on his,
his wandered.

He had the most beautiful brows,
she noted.
My friend owes me money,
he mulled.
It was a honeymoon of sorts.
She was the bride walking by
and he was the passerby

He wasn't quite happy
one could tell.
Somewhere a discontent gnawed.
She, on the other hand,
was ecstatic.
Flushed cheeks
Shining eyes
Her hand in the crook of his arm,
she felt she had it all.

They were lovers,
young and random,
collegegoers
nesting for the weekend.
But you see
bridehood's more than just a status.
It's a feeling.
She was the little bride
with the joyful stride.
I saw her walking by
with the passerby.