The unyielding river

In the cradle of a youth’s tender dawn, she bore them,

Each child an echo of her own nascent heart,

Planted in the soil of her unformed days,

Where innocence and wisdom wrestled like tempestuous winds.

She grew alongside them, a garden wild and unkempt,

Each year a new bloom in the tangled underbrush of her life,

Her hands, once mere buds of possibility, now twisted and strong,

Tended to the roots of their becoming, nurturing both their growth and her own.

Her love, a river flowing with the ferocity of a summer storm,

Cut through the granite of her youth, carving canyons in her soul,

The torrents of her sacrifice, fierce and untamed,

Fed the roots of her children, drawing strength from the wellspring of her boundless care.

In the twilight of her existence, when the day was not yet old,

She lay beneath the canopy of their burgeoning lives,

A forest dense with the branches of their dreams,

Her breath mingling with the whispers of their hopes.

Their laughter, a symphony of birdsong in the early morning mist,

Their tears, the rain that fell upon the parched earth,

She was the ancient oak, gnarled and wise,

Embracing the storm and the calm, the fury and the peace.

Her love, a tapestry woven from threads of dawn and dusk,

Stretched across the firmament of their shared existence,

A bridge of twilight hues, where the fierce sun of her youth

Faded into the serene starlight of their flourishing.

In the silent communion of the night’s soft breath,

She sees in their eyes the glimmers of her own nascent dreams,

The echoes of her youth etched in their laughter and their silence,

A cycle of life, entwined in the infinite dance of becoming and being.

Thus, in the quiet of her worn yet steadfast heart,

She carries the weight of their growing with a grace

That defies the boundaries of time and the limits of her own beginnings,

Her love, an unyielding river that flows ever onward, unbound and eternal.