A little bird tucks beneath his mother’s wing,
Sheltered in shadow, in warmth, in everything.
At first he trembles, clutching at her side,
Unsure of the world, the risks it hides.
Through nurture, through love both steady and true,
The fragile fledgling becomes something new.
Soon he stretches, a graceful dove,
Testing the sky she taught him to love.
With a steady heart, she tells him to roam,
To chase far skies and make them home.
“I’ll watch from above,” she whispers afar,
“I’ll always be here—look for my star.”
Yet with every breath the open air brings,
He remembers who taught him to use his wings—
My mother made me who I am today.
