Mr. Sum

Old Sum, a cynic with a weathered face,

Would shake his head at wedding bells' embrace.

"Those grand displays," he'd grumble, beard a-twitch,

"Are hollow shells, a love about to itch."

"The biggest bash, the most elaborate gown,

Just masks a crack, a love that can't stay down.

Too much attention, drowns the quiet spark,

Leaving them strangers, lost within the dark."

He'd point to couples, young and hand in hand,

Vowing forever in a glittered land.

"Remember them," he'd say with knowing eyes,

"When lavish vows turn into bitter cries."

The younger folks would scoff and roll their eyes,

"Love's grand, old Sum," they'd tease with playful sighs.

But as the years spun by, and weddings grand

Unraveled fast, they'd see his point at hand.

For love, they learned, thrived best in gentle light,

Not blinded by a staged and showy night.

Perhaps old Sum, with words both gruff and stark,

Held wisdom in his cynical remark.