In fields where sunlight softly gleams,
And whispers dance through golden dreams,
There lies a treasure, pure and true,
Not made of silver, not tinted blue.
No need for riches, grand or bold,
For time once held a finer gold—
The gentle warmth of morning light,
And hands that hold us through the night.
A mother’s love, a quiet smile,
The steady strength that lasts a while,
In simple moments, hearts unfold,
Creating bonds more precious than gold.
So cherish now each fleeting ray,
Each hand to hold along the way,
For life’s true wealth is often found,
In quiet love that wraps around.
No glittering gems or treasures vast,
Can match these memories that last.
With sunlight’s touch and gentle hold,
You carry gold beyond all told.
