How lovely is the time of day,
When its work is all but done.
And thoughts turn gradual to play,
A little time for rest and fun.

And as the sun declines in strength,
With children called indoors.
Shadows stretch along street’s length.
Then forth the teatime pours.

Savoury smells, pervade the air,
And a quiet and calm descends.
Playthings discarded here and there,
To the sense of moment lends.

From open windows waft the sounds,
Of cutlery and plates.
Along with chatter these things surround,
A sense of homeliness creates.

A trigger for fondest childhood thought,
Of happy days and loving ends.
I'm yet by this nostalgia caught,
Which to life's joy will ever lend.