In the golden fields where memories bloom,
A mother’s touch, a gentle loom.
Weaving love in threads so fine,
Her whispers echo through the time.

Seamus, with his pen and heart,
Captured moments, life’s fine art.
His mother’s strength, her silent grace,
Reflected in each written space.

Through the pages, her spirit soared,
A beacon bright, forever adored.
In every verse, in every line,
Their bond eternal, pure, divine.

The poet’s muse, his guiding star,
She walks with him, near and far.
In every field, in every sky,
Their love, a song that will not die.