The castle of pillows, once a throne of dreams,
Now holds a captive, bound by surgical seams.
My body, a battlefield, stitched and still sore,
Yearning to rise, but weakness pleads for more.

My husband, my fortress, weathers the storm,
A juggler of burdens, keeping us warm.
His gentle touch soothes, a silent decree,
“Your strength will return, just wait and you’ll see.”

The children, like sunshine, peek through the door,
Their laughter, a melody I long to explore.
Guilt paints the silence, a tear escapes sight,
A mother restricted, a wife dimmed in light.

The house, a reflection, whispers my name,
Dishes pile high, a game I can’t play.
But whispers of hope in my spirit take root,
This rest is a haven, to bear future fruit.

For them, I will rise, a warrior anew,
My love, their compass, forever will hold true.
This too shall pass, like pages turned with care,
A stronger wife, mother, with burdens to share.