Till Death Do Us Part
by Chris O’Carroll
To mention death might seem a bit perverse
on such a joyous day. But this day’s joy,
because it’s death-defined, is death-defying.
About tomorrow, all we know for sure
is that one day there won’t be one for us.
Today might be our only yesterday
(or yesterday might be). But every day,
your hand in mine’s a second certainty,
pledging a sure thing no less sure than that.
Perhaps there should be some less doomstruck way
to say how much these vows mean. Please accept
my clumsy mortal thanks that I have found
in this embrace that can’t last long enough
so much to live for and so much to lose.
Chris O’Carroll is a writer and an actor. His poems have appeared in The Barefoot Muse, Measure, The Raintown Review, The Spectator, Umbrella, and other print and online journals.
See links to all sonnets by this author