Will those steps still spring,
after the finger wears the ring,
Or will it be a gauntlet to a boxing ring,
Will that serenading voice still sing,
Will love take flight on one broken wing?
Will her head still feel light and pliant on the shoulder,
or will it weigh heavy as a boulder,
Will her hitherto warm embrace feel colder,
and tacit hate become bolder,
Will love’s flames smolder?
Sight is now clear, no longer veiled by the burning desires of your members, So will you still fan the flickering embers,
Will your vows echo, will you vividly remember
that it is for better for worse, January to December?