There are quiet spaces all over town,
Confined and quiet and still.
Unnoticed and to few renown,
Which peace and silence fill.

They listen to the bustling world outside,
Its discarnate muffled sounds.
Yet peace does in their midst abide,
Whilst life's daily chant resounds.

Through windows, sun scans east to west,
And shadows rise and fall.
Generous host to this timeless guest,
As and when it minds to call.

Each may have busy, fruitful time,
Of dedicated use.
When full purpose they attempt to mime,
Brief relief from long recluse.

But soon again, all cleared away,
Little evidence left to find.
With dusty air wan light will play,
The only memory left behind.

Imagined echoes of past events,
Of use to self or all.
Past, present, and future planned intents,
Upon its faculty to call.

By containing a little of land and air,
We can create a place of calm.
A generous space with much to share,
Of enduring, tranquil charm.

They lie about us in plain sight,
For to call upon in need.
To save the day with a little night,
On our behalf, our cause to plead.

A cathedral provides the grander scale,
But before too far I roam.
I search nearby and try avail,
What is near and close to home.

Spare office, small church, shed, village hall,
Where time has stately flow.
To a different, patient world in thrall,
And where few have need to go.

So watch out for precious places such,
Which might offer kind retreat.
Emptiness; yet furnished much,
Where fast and slow life meet.