I write of the Father

I write of the Father
I never have known
Who planted the seed
He never saw grown
The man in the woman
The woman in me
Journeying on
What will be, will be.
His child is now grown
Her hopes have all flown
If only he'd cared
If only he'd known
What hopes she had harboured
Ideas she had sown
Realities she'd created
Thoughts, like thistledown blown.
The man in the woman
The woman in me
Journeying on
What will be, will be.
She walks all alone
Through the darkness and pain
Silent and numb
To speak brings no gain
The man in the woman
The woman in me
Journeying on
What will be, will be.
Her life bore 3 others
2 sisters, 1 brother
So not all was lost
Despite the great cost
The man in the woman
The woman in me
Journeying on
What will be, will be.