Feud with Parent In-Laws
They look at me with folded arms,
eyes sharp as winter glass,
as if love were something borrowed
and not something earned.
I came with open hands and hope,
with laughter stitched into my dress,
but their silence weighs like questions
I was never meant to answer.
They guard the past like a kingdom,
and I am the stranger at the gate—
loving their son with a heart
they refuse to understand.
Still, I stand where love has placed me,
rooted deeper than their doubt.
Time will soften even stone,
and truth will teach them who I am.
Until then, I wear my patience
like a crown they cannot take.
For love chose me —
and love does not apologize.
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