Amy, you’re the kind of gentle glow
That teaches winter how to go.
You turn a sigh into a song,
And help the weary feel they belong.
When plans fall through and nerves run tight,
You stitch the day back up with light.
You find the good in what looks gray,
And coax a brave “okay” to stay.
So if the world gets sharp or strange,
You meet it calm, you meet it change.
And in your wake, like footprints, see—
More hope, more heart, more “we” than “me.”