Chose

Chose

In a quiet kitchen, tea steam curls,
A neighbour hums a tune from yesterday,
The kettle whistles, the world unfurls –
A moment hangs, a choice to sway.

You chose the lane that winds past stone,
Where mossy walls recall old wars,
Where laughter rings from church‑tone,
And children chase the evening stars.

You chose the road that climbs the hill,
Where heather sighs in purple sighs,
Where distant sheep stand, calm and still,
And clouds drift slow beneath grey skies.

Each path a thread, each step a vow,
No map can tell what lies ahead,
Yet in the hush you hear it now –
The quiet strength of words unsaid.

So raise your cup, let worries cease,
For in the act of choosing, peace –
A simple, steadfast, British peace.