Prothalamium

Prothalamium

In verse seven we could tie the knot perhaps.

Said he after his thirteen relapse.

Was he not his plangent self?

She entertained for a brief interlude.

Then sobering up:

This time she had to let him go.

In this very   lachrymal hour.

He was mephitic oozing with dark vapours

Surrounded by ghosts of yesteryear

Between them was a huge barrier!

She and she alone was their wedding engineer

He knew of no etiquette

Nor of any rules

Dark ale was his real muse:

His real love.

She dabbed her lips with rouge

 and wrote a prothalamium

A fairytale, a fantasy

Before she said her final adios

"I bid you goodbye, fairwell my coarse lover!"

In verse seven they would tie the knot in her prothalamium.