She whispers to me,
on the brisk morning breeze,
in the flowers of spring,
and the leaves on the trees.

Wrapping me in her arms,
when I’m troubled and scared,
reassuring and calm,
like the warmth of the air.

She oft holds my hand,
when we trek winter’s cold,
and she whispers to me,
“You are never alone”.

Though you left long ago,
you're not far from my side,
a mom and her daughter,
whose love never dies.