My Mother

She never asked for praise or gold,

Her love was quiet, strong, and bold.

In wrinkled hands and tired eyes,

I saw her dreams, her silent cries.

She woke before the break of dawn,

With weary bones, she carried on.

Her whispered prayers, her steady hands,

Built hope upon life’s shifting sands.

Her lullabies were made of grace,

Her touch could calm life’s wildest race.

The tears she wiped from my small face,

Were lessons time cannot erase.

She stitched my clothes, she fixed my dreams,

She taught me life’s not all it seems.

She bore the weight without a sound,

Her quiet courage knew no bounds.

I never saw her chase applause,

She lived for love, not for a cause.

Her battles fought behind closed doors,

Her spirit patched my broken floors.

She stood like roots beneath my feet,

A steady, constant, soft heartbeat.

Her sacrifices paved the way,

For brighter nights and lighter days.

Her wisdom wasn’t loud or grand,

It lived within her weathered hands.

She taught me kindness, taught me grace,

To lift the fallen, love this place.

And now I walk the paths she paved,

With every lesson that she gave.

I hear her voice when times are tough,

“Be gentle, child. You are enough.”

She is my shelter in the storm,

The fire that keeps my spirit warm.

Though time may steal her youth away,

Her love will never fade or stray.

A mother’s love, both fierce and kind,

The greatest gift I’ll ever find.

No wealth, no title, no acclaim,

Could match the honor of her name.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi