I walked alone through shadowed days,
until her smile became my dawn.
Love gathered us in gentle arms,
and marriage bloomed—a garden song.
Each moment shimmered, bright and whole,
we drank the sweetness of our vows.
Two children came, a boy, a girl,
their laughter stitched the sky with now.
Father steady, mother radiant,
we built a home of tender light.
Our lives were full, our circle closed,
our children’s joy our guiding rite.
Yet now I watch the younger tide,
a restless sea that shuns the shore.
They choose companionship without vows,
they choose no children to adore.
They chase the night, the fleeting thrill,
their music louder than lullabies.
They call it freedom, yet they miss
the deeper bliss that never dies.
For love is more than passing fire,
and parenthood a sacred trust.
Without its roots, the human song
may fade to silence, fade to dust.
