words are fleetingly solid things,
  they sit upon the tongue
  and stammer out of old and young
     and like heaving lung,
        grab for purchase
          when all is gone.
  So, take with you,
    my dear boo,
      these lisping lines.
      remembering not my
      faltering tongue and stumbling hand
      for tho I did not always know where to stand,
        I stood with you,
            hand in hand.
      — your father, on your wedding day, May 24, 2013

Up next: engagement photo