No fanfare sounds, no glaring light,

Whilst still the day feels gently right,

A cup of tea, the birds are singing,

The hush of peace this morning’s bringing.

No medal won, no worldly prize,

Just laughter shared with loving sighs,

The rustle of a turning page,

The wisdom learned with passing age.

A garden path, the scent of rain,

Deep breaths that soothe away the daily strain,

No hunger for what might have been,

Just presence full, and then life is seen.

This is the wealth that is not sold or bought,

A stillness born from quiet thought,

Not less but more in letting go,

The soul at ease, contentment to sow.