No roof or walls could ever hold,
The warmth that she, in silence, told.
Her arms, my haven from the storm,
In every shape, her love took form.
No map could chart the path she knew,
She lit the dark with heart so true.
A gentle voice, a guiding light,
That found me in the deepest night.
Though miles may stretch and years may flee,
Her soul remains the heart of me.
A rare, pure flame that doesn’t fade,
A gem no time or loss could jade.
With kindness stitched in every seam,
She held my hopes, she fed my dream.
No judgment cast, just open hands,
A love that always understands.
And every time I lost my way,
Her love would call me back to stay.
Not to a place of stone and wood,
But to her heart — where all is good.
She is my home, my sacred ground,
Where peace and purpose both are found.
And though the world may pull me far,
She is my North, my morning star.
For in her soul, so vast, so wide,
I’ve found the place where I reside.
A mother, yes — but more than so,
The only home I’ve ever known.
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