Mothers

In the quiet dawn of every new day,  
Mothers rise with the sun, embracing the light,  
Their hands, gentle yet strong, weave tapestries of dreams,  
Nurturing the tender hearts of their children,  
With whispers of hope and the warmth of their love.  

In gardens of laughter, they plant the seeds,  
Of curiosity, kindness, and boundless belief,  
Each moment a treasure, each smile a bloom,  
Yet within this joy, also linger the shadows,  
For sadness is woven in the fabric of growth.  

As children learn to stretch and soar,  
Mothers watch with an uneasy pride.
Aware of the bittersweet dance of letting go,  
Knowing that every step toward independence,  
Carries a piece of her heart into the world.  
 
But like the roots of a mighty tree,  
Her love runs deep, unyielding and true.  
In every stumble, every tear that falls,  
She is there, a strong steadfast light,  
Guiding them through the storms of life.  

In the tapestry of time, her wisdom unfolds,  
Each thread a lesson, each color a story,  
And as the years blossom, children turn to wings.  
They carry mothers love, as a song in their souls,  
Forever embraced, though paths may separate.  

So let us celebrate that the tapestry is spun,  
A mosaic of laughter, tears, forgiveness and grace.  
For in the long echoes of their journeys,  
Mothers and children, are forever entwined,  
Planting seeds of love wherever they go.

©David Douglas May 5, 2025