In silent nights and shadowed days,
She stitched her soul in quiet ways.
Grief left its marks, but could not
break
The flame she guards for her own
sake.
She is a brave soul, she meets the
fight,
A mother's strength, friends' light.
She paints her pain in bold colors,
And turns her wounds into art untold.
Where others fall, she dares to
stand,
With fire and grace in either hand.
Soft yet fierce, both kind and wise,
She lifts the world with steady eyes.
So sing of her bravely, still rising
strong,
The storm, the calm, the healing
song.
Through every trial, loss, or call,
She rises still—and through it all.
No comments:
Post a Comment