True Love

How poor and weak the love that only sees

Within its object qualities that please,

Awaking flawless beauty with a kiss,

Expectant of an ever-after bliss,

Wherein the needs of both are satisfied:

All hers in him, and his, in her, the bride.

Call poor and weak, nay, call not love at all

That glow that fades when trials it befall:

For who would call it love that only cleaves

When appetite is slaked, or else it leaves?

No! Slander not that godly thing that swears

To stand by and be true through all the cares

And sorrows that are bound to come in life --

Some caused indeed by him, some by the wife.

Yes, this is love, and only love, that sees

Its object's flaws, and loves in spite of these.

~~~

So, yeah. I got married :). 

Have some wedding pictures. Photo credit goes to Keely Kohl, my fantastic wedding photographer. Want to see more? Or am I the only one who loves looking at pictures of me and my boy? And speaking of Jon, this poem is for him. I'm so grateful to be loved in spite of my shortcomings.

Seriously, though, holla if you want more pictures. There ARE actually pictures of other things besides me and Jon and the sheet music. That is to say, pics of the bridal party, of the venue, of the dancing. I just didn't think those photos were suited to this post.