In the hushed cocoon of the night,
beneath the weight of a restless sky,
a mother leans close, whispers softly,
the rhythm of her heart, a lullaby.
“Listen, my love, to the world outside,
where the thunder roars and shadows collide.
But one day, oh child, when the darkness gives way,
the bombs will fall silent, and peace will stay.”
She brushes the hair from his forehead,
each stroke a promise, a gentle thread,
binding their hopes to the stars above,
where dreams still flourish, where fear cannot shove.
“In the gardens of morning, with dew on the grass,
we’ll dance in the sunlight, let the past pass.
And flowers will bloom in colors so bright,
a tapestry woven with joy and with light.”
His eyes, wide and shining, search her face,
seeking the warmth of that promised place.
“Will there be laughter? Will there be friends?”
“In the embrace of love, that never ends.”
So they shelter together, her arms a shield,
as echoes of sorrow through the night yield.
“Hold tight to my words, let them nest in your heart,
for love is the force that can heal and restart.”
“Though the world may tremble and darkness may creep,
I’ll guard you with dreams, and we’ll both dare to sleep.
For one day, my darling, the bombs will subside,
and we’ll walk hand in hand, with hope as our guide.”
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