Her hands tell stories, worn and true,
Folding time in all they do.
Morning rush, the sleepless nights,
Silent battles, unseen fights.
She lifts, she mends, she holds so tight,
Yet carries burdens out of sight.
A weary sigh, a fleeting rest,
Love unbroken in her chest.
The world may take, but she still gives,
For in her care, her family lives.
Oh, let her rest, just for a while,
Then she will rise—her weary smile.