Prelude to Love

Mother heavily leans against the wall,
Her breathing labored.
A sharp pain strikes her,
And she falls down with a cry.

Lumps of dung everywhere;
Father searches the damp mounds,
In vain hopes of finding some clean straws.
With a cribfull, he rushes towards the manger.

She gives birth in a throbbing gripe;
Roaches swarm in the feeding stall
Clean sheets stained with marks of sludge and blood
Foul hues hang in the air.

Parents keep close to the infant,
Keeping an eye out for insects and rats.
The walls are wafer-thin,
Barely enough for a cover from night's wind.

Not where a king would sleep;
Not where a noble would sleep;
Not where a peasant would sleep;
Not even where a stallion would rest its weary head.

King of kings, Lord of lords lie in a beggarly slum
In all our trials born to be our friend.
O what greater sacrifice could God make?
The perfect love story began this night.