By Anita Chavan
A mother’s love, a steady guide,
Through storm and sun, she stood with pride.
When he was young, a boy so small,
She held him close, she gave her all.
Through teenage years, when paths were torn,
And restless hearts were bruised and worn,
She stood by him through every fight,
Her heart a beacon, shining bright.
No words could heal the wounds he’d find,
But in her arms, peace would unwind.
Her love a fortress, fierce and strong,
She whispered, “Together, we belong.”
Then came the days, the years did pass,
The boy grew tall—handsome, full of class.
With quiet strength, he stood in place,
Matured in love, with gentle grace.
The battles came, his mother cried,
Her heart was heavy, torn inside.
Battles and sorrow clouded her sky,
But he was there, though words were shy.
He silently watched with steady eyes,
As she faced her pain, her long goodbyes.
No longer a child as she once owned,
But a man who knew—she wasn’t alone.
With every tear, he stood nearby,
His love unspoken, but his whispers high.
Supporting her in ways untold
A son now strong, his heart of gold.
He didn’t speak, but his love was clear,
He held her close, he wiped each tear.
For in the silence, their hearts did speak,
A bond so strong, so pure, so deep.
Through every storm, through every fight,
He stood beside her, day and night.
A son, a warrior, forever true
His mother’s love, her strength, renewed.