I was a kid of six or eight
Sitting on a pew, trying not to squirm.
The church was decorated to the hilt
With white candles,
White orchids,
A white runner down the aisle.
The bride and groom stood holding hands.
The preacher started to speak,
The strangest words fell from his lips.
I covered my mouth
To stifle a laugh
When I heard the words
“Holy Macaroni.”
How does this work?
What does it mean?
How can macaroni join them?
Will cheese be involved?
Is this like Yankee Doodle’s?
And what does one do
To make this macaroni holy?
The questions just piled higher and higher.
It never made any sense.
No pasta appeared,
And I just sat there confused.
Today's prompt: write a poem about words that sound alike, or can be misused or misheard.
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