You can find the original here, if you are so minded, or simply read on.
*************************************
I milked the cow in the morning,
on the day that I was wed,
a daily chore I deemed worth doing,
which made me rise, extra early from my bed.
The comforting sound of chewing,
her flank so warm, and soft as silk,
rhythmic sounds of fluid streaming,
as the bucket filled with milk.
I leaned my head against my cow,
and gentle handed squeezed,
as in my head I said my vows,
repeated now with familiar ease.
I milked the cow in the morning,
of the day that I was wed,
and in contrast to her cream white milk,
I married in a suit of red.
© ceenoa
A Suit of Red
Ceenoa 
Lovely poem. And I milked that cow in the evening I believe! You did make lovely butter from her rich cream.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I guess you did, and it was lovely butter. The postman milked her the next morning 🙂
LikeLike
And you looked charming in your “suit of red”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks
LikeLike
LOVE the pic at the end!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am rather partial to it too 🙂 thanks Brian
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oooh, love the “suit”, as well as the poem. I’m certain the cow appreciated your devotion to duty. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks CJ. I expect she really didn’t give a moo, as long as someone milked her (my Mum did in the evening and the postman the next morning).
LikeLiked by 1 person
I do love the poem and the suit of red equally. What a lovely postman!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
He was a good guy. Don’t think he actually got much milk out of Hazel, but it was enough to last to the end of the day. 🙂 Still have the suit hanging in my wardrobe, still looks beautiful, still doesn’t fit me anymore 🙂
LikeLike