In the quiet meadows, the days pass by
The nurturer, never knew sleep.
She moves with elegance with tide of tasks,
Neglecting her own needs, mends other.

Balancing the realms of career and home
She is tired, but never weak.
Her strength is unseen and unsaid;
But she is the symbol of valor and resilience.

Do we respect her, or take her for granted?
Her silent whispers fade and never heard.
Has she any time for herself?
Give a space, to breathe, to simply be there.

Woman, that’s what everyone calls her.
Indeed she exists, a symphony of grace
A testament to courage and might;
Her story will be heard, echoing through time.