The Bouquet

The bride created her bouquet
With seeming just-picked flowers,
The pretty kind that benefitted
From a day of showers.

Her perfect simple long white gown
Fulfilled part of its mission –
To highlight those sweet blossoms
In accordance with tradition.

But this bouquet was different
Since a secret it concealed,
A tribute to her dad to whom
The thought would have appealed.

For wrapped around the clutch of stems, 
Right where her hands would touch,
Was a necktie of her father’s
Whom she surely missed so much.

She didn’t advertise the fact,
A private gesture; still,
Just as touching as I’ve ever seen
And think I ever will.