In the quiet whispers of the night,
A mother holds her daughter tight,
Weaving tales of love and grace,
In their hearts, a sacred space.

Through the years, as time does fly,
They laugh and sometimes cry,
A bond that neither can break,
Each moment, a memory to take.

The daughter grows, a woman strong,
Yet in her heart, the same old song,
A lullaby of days gone by,
Beneath the same, eternal sky.

And as the cycle starts anew,
The daughter whispers, “I love you,”
To her own child, with gentle care,
A mother’s love, forever there.