A Beauty Mother Poem by Natasa To

She is the morning before the sun decides to rise,

a hush of gold along the window's edge,

a gentle hand smoothing the restless dark

from a child's half-dreaming eyes.



She is the garden no winter can defeat,

roots deep with patient grace,

blossoming courage in tender hearts

with every warm embrace.



Her laughter is a silver bell

ringing through the narrow halls of doubt,

and when the storms begin to swell,

her quiet faith outshines their shout.



She carries worlds in woven arms—

groceries, worries, hope, and grace—

yet still finds time to trace a star

on every small upturned face.



Her love is bread upon the table,

simple, sacred, always there;

a thousand unseen miracles

hidden in her daily care.



She is the harbor and the tide,

the steady shore, the open sea—

teaching fragile wings to trust

the wide, uncharted sky to be.



Beautiful mother, soft and strong,

the heart where all our journeys start—

your name is written, bright and long,

across the quiet of our heart.