Beginning

A mistake, she was,
you might say,
unplanned by the man...
By the other? Who knows?
By her he had to take the vow
as the right thing to do,
for so he believed,
although now, to think of it,
God never willed it so,
no vows were made,
the God of love saw none
save for the one that came after.
For, indeed, no error was hers
and love was fit for her own sake
and gladly given.
And so with her the father made the trek
for one brief while,
for the man had yet to find his feet
in a world he had too quickly
been rushed into,
having yet to find out
what love truly was,
though feeling inside
a love poured out
from God's own bosom
for the child of human error born
yet God's own plan given.
Two made one unreal
soon were torn asunder,
first by place,
then by time,
and then by man's writ
for never had Love intended it.
Too soon, too soon left
without a mother's love.
Too soon, too soon,
given only one brief yesterday,
a time not enough to even remember,
save from letters send now and then,
read from the father's knee,
that to one so young
were nothing more
than long drawn lines,
yet given love by a father's voice
who rightly saw from the heart
what the child needed and yearned,
that, too, was writ in the soft sad eyes
of her early years.
What the letters lacked
the father gave
with all the caring he knew.
With his voice he tried
to make his child
feel what she needed as best he could -
a mother's love that the written words
could not yet convey to the little one.
And deep in his heart a hope lay
that the love of mother conveyed
would bring to the little one's heart
his own,
deeper felt as it was,
and deeper given in every embrace and kiss
in every day and evening shared,
though in a house not their own,
father and child,
though in a home yet being built
in their hearts.
A home, alas, never to be fulfilled
for the young heart never found a home.