“mother, grandma, great grandma”

Three pillars stand within my heart:  
A lineage woven, world apart—  
First, Mother, tender hands and eyes  
Who lifts me up, who calms my cries.  
Her laughter threads through every day,  
A gentle breeze that lights my way.

Then, Grandma, warm as apple pie,  
Whose gentle words and tales supply  
The magic of a world long gone—  
A steady love, a twilight song.  
Her garden glows with summer sun,  
Where stories bloom and hearts are spun.

And Great-Grandma, silver crowned and wise,  
The echo of old lullabies—  
She holds the family’s ancient thread,  
A treasure chest of things she said.  
Her photos faded, tucked away,  
Still color every dawn with day.

Three mothers, rooted like the trees,  
Their courage woven through the leaves—  
I am the blossom, they the seed,  
A living story, age by deed.  
With every hug, with every prayer,  
Their love surrounds me everywhere.

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