In the quiet mornings,
they gather-
four hearts woven into one rhythm.

A father's hands,steady and worn,
lifting tiny feet toward the sky,
while a daughter's laughter
fills the room they built together.

The granddaughter clutches dreams
in small fists,
the grandson carries sunlight in his eyes,
and between them all,
an invisible thread hums-
stronger than time,
softer than breath.

Stories pass from hand to hand,
not always spoken,
but always known-
a look,a smile,a silent promise.

Here,love is not a word,
but a thousand small moments,
stitched carefully
into the shape of forever.