By Megha Ramakanth Naik\
She stands beside you, as a guiding light,
Through every storm, through darkest night.
A mother’s warmth, a sister’s grace,
A friend who holds a sacred space.
She shifts, she bends, she learns, she grows,
Through every high, through silent lows.
Not "gifted"—no, she fights, she strives,
Through countless roles, she builds her life.
She bleeds, it aches, yet moves with grace,
A cycle unseen, a quiet embrace.
Her mind a storm, her soul a sea,
Still, she stands, still, she "be".
She is the hand that wipes your tears,
The voice that calms your deepest fears.
A love so fierce, yet soft, so true,
In every shade, she carries you.
No trophies mark the love she gives,
No records hold the way she lives.
Yet still, she toils, she stands so tall,
A woman strong—she can’t have all.
So pause, take note, lend her your time,
Celebrate her, let her shine.
Who is your pink, so fierce, so true?
Is she gifted—or is it "you"?