In the shadows of a house once bright,
Lies the echo of a mother’s plight.
Her whispers cold, her touch a ghost,
In dreams, it’s her absence we host.

The cradle rocks with silent tears,
Her promises, like fleeting years.
A garden left untended, wild,
The soil cries for a mother’s smile.

Voices raised, not in song but spite,
A home where love has taken flight.
In her eyes, a storm resides,
A tempest where compassion hides.

Yet in the darkness, hope may bloom,
From deep within a shadowed room.
For even barren fields can yield,
When empathy becomes the shield.