In the cacophony of carnations and cards,

A different story whispers, unheard, in the yards.
For not every woman cradles a child in her arms,
Yet mothering instincts beat in unseen alarms.
The teacher, a shepherd of curious minds,
Who nurtures and guides, leaving worries behind.
The mentor, a lighthouse in life’s stormy seas,
Offering wisdom on pathways unknown, with such ease.
The friend, a solace, a shoulder to cry on,
Who celebrates triumphs and mends when things go wrong.
The single parent, left alone and working hard with such grace,
So many roles held, sometimes with no praise.
The cook, who pours her heart into every creation,
Making something for everyone deserves endless admiration.
The caregiver, a hand that soothes and attends,
A wellspring of patience that never seems to end.
These people, unseen, wear a different kind of crown,
Their love a silent symphony, whispered, not shouted down.
So let’s remember, on this day and every day,
Not all people have children, but they all deserve praise.