For she who loves the morning,
All quiet, still & new.
For she who takes a morning breath,
Of fresh air filled with dew.
For she who leaves her beloved,
Warm & tight at rest.
And takes sacred time for herself,
To pause & clear her head.
She listens to no music,
No sounds to break her bliss.
Her quiet time is magic,
It’s vital not to miss.
It sets her up for the day,
And puts her in good sted.
To give her all, to those she loves,
Before worries fill her head.
In the silence she is free,
To listen to the voice.
That speaks directly to her her heart,
And drowns out all the noise.
The voice that guides her on her way,
And keeps her safe from harm.
The voice that tells her what to do,
To keep her cool and calm.
For mornings are not just simply,
For quiet time alone.
They’re the time where she can reflect,
On the house she made a home.
The home that soon will be filled,
With idle chatter, noise & fun.
The home that will start to ask her,
“What’s for breakfast, mum?”
It really is important that,
She takes these mornings for herself.
For in this time she remembers,
The young woman she left up on the shelf.
The woman who was fierce & brave,
Who fought for things she loved.
She looked down into her arms,
At the little faces tilting up.
Then suddenly she felt a rush;
A stirring deep inside.
Her heart beat faster; cheeks a flush,
Her chest swelled up with pride.
That young, brave woman was still in there;
And she was ready for a fight.
To defend those whom she loved the most;
And protect them with all her might.
Then she paused, with a smile,
Which was only for herself.
What she wished for had come true.
The young, brave woman inside her heart,
Held far more power than she knew.