In quiet corners of their shared abode,
A father stern, a mother tenderly strong,
They wove the tapestry of life untold,
In whispers soft, where shadows belong.
His father’s books, a world of vast delight,
Shelves heavy with the weight of dreams,
Yet silence lingered in the dim-lit night,
Where hopes and fears entwined in streams.
A mother’s gentle hand upon his brow,
Her love a steady, unyielding flame,
She nurtured in him what life would allow,
Amidst the echoes of an unspoken name.
Together they stood, in life’s fleeting race,
Their footsteps marked by time’s gentle tread,
In the heart of a child, their lasting trace,
A legacy of words left unsaid.