Award

A gleam upon the shelf, a modest prize,
A quiet testament to steady hands,
It catches light in muted, humble guise—
Not gaudy fanfare, but the quiet stands
Of effort woven through the daily grind,
Each thread a thought, each stitch a purpose true,
When recognition finds the humble kind,
It whispers warm approval, soft and new.

No trumpet blare, no thunderous acclaim,
Just simple nod from those who’ve walked the path,
A coloured ribbon, or a simple name,
That marks the quiet surge of honest wrath
Against apathy, against the easy sway—
An award, in truth, is kindness given back.