In quiet whispers of the night,She cradles dreams in gentle arms,A lullaby of stars and sky,Embracing life through tender charms.The weight of worlds upon her soul,A poet’s heart with words to weave,In every line, a glimpse of whole,The joys and aches she can’t conceive.Her pen, a brush of vivid hues,Paints portraits rich in love and fear,Through shadows deep, the light imbues,A mother’s voice, both strong and clear.Yet in the silence, echoes sing,Of laughter, tears, and endless grace,A tapestry of life’s own spring,In Sylvia’s heart, a sacred space.