The Bradstreet frame
Iris is the reader in my life — she's lent me forty books and forgiven me for returning six — so it's only right to borrow some words for her tonight. Anne Bradstreet wrote, almost four hundred years ago: 'If ever two were one, then surely we.' I thought of that line the first time I saw Iris and Ezra in their natural habitat, which is two chairs pushed together in a used bookstore, reading separate novels, completely silent, completely together. That's the marriage I've watched them practice for six years: two whole people, one quiet us. Iris, you taught me that the best love stories aren't dramatic — they're two chairs, pushed together, for life. Ezra, keep pushing the chairs together. Everyone, raise your glasses: to Iris and Ezra — if ever two were one.
Why it works: The borrowed line is repaid with a living image — two bookstore chairs — so the poetry feels earned, not decorative.
Customize it: Choose a short public-domain line the couple would love, then find the everyday scene from their life that proves it true.
