The Transfer of Love

Peacefully she lies cradled in our arms.
Our fingers trace the outline of her face
Downy brow to button nose.
Tears of pain now tears of joy
She is altogether lovely.
She is ours.

Veiled, she appears behind the crowds.
The music swells, all rise to face her.
Tightening her grip on his arm they approach,
Hearts flood with emotion no words can express.

Toddling first steps,
Lisping phrases,
Eyes bright with wonder.
A tooth under her pillow,
A fort in the trees,
Braiding wispy hair.
Wobbling bike wheels,
Laughter rings.
Front row seats and backstage passes,
Childhood is a vapor.

Work-worn hands lift delicate tulle from her face
He kisses her cheek.
"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" the script demands.
"Her mother and I," the thick reply.
Eyes lowered, we step back.
She steps forward
With the New Him.

Her back is straight and confident
Heaven hears their words.
Ringlets of blond frame her face
The same brow, the same nose.
Tears lay heavy on her lashes but she only sees him.
She is altogether lovely.
She is his.