Isn't She Lovely.

Some musos warming up in the music room. Took my mind and heart back, and back.



Old Knights have wounds.

But Joys too. Some joys burst from the heart.

 

 

Isn't she lovely? Isn't she wonderful?
Isn't she precious? Less than one minute old.
I never thought through love
We'd be making one as lovely as she
But isn't she lovely made from love?

 

Isn't she pretty? Truly the Angel's best
Boy, I'm so happy, we have been Heaven blessed
I can't believe what God has done
Through us He's given life to one
But isn't she lovely made from love?

 

 

 

I delivered my baby girl. OK. I assisted the midwife.

 

 

It was my eyes that saw her crowning.

The first eyes to see her enter the world.

 

 

 





 

Stevie Wonder sang from my car as I drove to work afterwards. I played it over and over; miles of countryside that had taken on an entirely different aspect.

 

The day was brilliant. My heart was filled with a light far brighter than the sun rising on its day's journey. I have never felt such Joy since.

 

I was a King.

 

She, my Princess.

 

I always wanter her.

Long before she was even a twinkle in my eye, she was there, in my heart.

 

 

 

 

 

So many years ago.

 

Now I have only the cross of estrangement to bear.

 

But the Love is as perfect as ever it was.

 

Unconditional.

 

My Little Petal.

 

 

 

 

Old Kings carry old wounds.

 

Old but forever fresh.

 

Blood still drives Broken Hearts.

 

I say the Rosary every day.