In the heart’s quiet corner, memories softly tread,
Where echoes of laughter linger, never truly fled.
Gentle whispers of stories, of days long past,
Tales of joy and sorrow, forever meant to last.

Beneath the old oak tree, where shadows gently dance,
We carved our dreams in silence, given every chance.
The house, a silent witness, to our growing years,
Its walls cradling our triumphs, our hopes, and fears.

In the kitchen’s warm embrace, where aromas softly weave,
Mother’s gentle humming, a song we still believe.
The clinking of the dishes, a symphony of care,
Binding us together, in moments rich and rare.

Now as the seasons change, and time we cannot stall,
The memories of family remain the strongest of all.
In every gentle whisper, every silent tear that falls,
Lies the warmth of home, echoing through the halls.