By JH Sayyar
Her touch like breeze through morning dew,
So soft it wakes the rose with blushing cheek;
In every glance, a world begins anew,
Where silence speaks the words we to speak
She moves with grace no hand could frame,
A soul attuned to sorrow, joy, and song;
In every tear, a candle finds its flame,
To light the hearts of those who suffer long.
Her mercy flows like rivers from the spring,
Unforced, it bends the hardest, proudest will;
She bears the weight of wounds without a sting,
And with a whisper, brings the storm to still.
Though gentle seems her ever-giving part,
A quiet strength beats in her tender heart.
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