Threads of Love

Threads of Love When I was five, mom placed a poetry book in my hands, Words and verses, like seeds in the sands. At eight, I wrote my first poem, never looking back, Each line, a light on a well-worn track. She taught me faith, devotion, grace, Gave ten children true love’s embrace. Through churches built and prayers she’d weave, A life of giving, never to leave. Her hands stitched stories, her meals told tales, Each spice, each thread—love never fails. Sitting close, as the needle danced, She spoke of dreams, of life’s expanse. And in the backyard, side by side, A homemade swing, where hearts confide. We talked of hopes, of skies so wide, Her love, my anchor, my constant guide. So here I stand, with pen in hand, Writing the love she helped me understand. For in my heart, her words remain— A mother’s gift, becomes a sacred flame.

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