Soft Glow

 
In the soft glow of school mornings

with NPR playing low,
My mother guided my hands through

every school project’s glow.
My father opened the world,

showing entertainment’s secret door,
And my grandmother held my days

with a love that asked

for nothing more.

Together they shaped me

steady, gentle, and free
A chorus of support

that still echoes in me.

*

(Featured image from Pexels)

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