In the gentle whisper of the dawn,
Her voice becomes the morning breeze,
A melody of love softly drawn,
Guiding me through lifeâs gentle seas.
Her hands, the architects of warmth,
Weave comfort in the fabric of time,
Each touch a testament of growth,
A rhythmic dance, a silent rhyme.
Her eyes, a mirror to the soul,
Reflect the dreams she dared to dream,
A beacon as I strive and stroll,
In her gaze, I find my gleam.
Through every storm, her spirit soars,
A lighthouse through the darkest night,
In her embrace, my courage roars,
My mother, my guiding light.