To The Child I Had No Chance To Meet

 

This is for everyone who has a child they never met, waiting for them in Heaven.

The precious baby of my heart,
whose earthly life I could not see,
is waiting, yes, to be a part
of the wonder that’s to be.
I think he will be tall and strong,
so gentle, and so fair of face,
and I do hope it won’t be long
until our meeting, full of grace
when he tells me of the time
that while I wept, he played with God,
hopscotch and jump rope divine,
on that playground bright and broad
on which his new-found body thrived
to see the day that I arrived.

The sonnet above was written this morning as a comment for Bob Hostetler's post on the Steve Laube Agency blog,  "6 Joys Of Finishing A Writing Project"

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is IGNORE.

Today, ignore the sorrow,

today, ignore the lack,

but know that by tomorrow

they will be coming back.

Drink ye hearty, to forget

'till hands are all a-tremor,

but you'll find that even yet

you will still remember

the ghost within that has no face,

that did not come to be,

and yet will demand a place

a-seat upon your knee,

for only thus are wiped away

the tears for he who had no day

Three minutes thirty.

Music from MercyMe, with Homesick.

When we found Sylvia, she had a dead puppy in her womb. She grieved, too.