I praise the long penned letter
that no one reads twice,
the handwritten card
laid down beside the kettle,
the door held open
for the stranger behind me.

I praise the slow walk
between two appointments,
the cup of tea
no algorithm made,
the small gesture and smile
that says, I see you
and I like what I see.

I praise the unposted thought
just between me and you,
the meal eaten quietly, slowly,
without a phone camera clicking,
the book read once
and slid back on the shelf
without a star rating,
or shared between us.

I do not want
what the market wants me to want.
I will not measure
my hours in clicks,
like a fish to wriggling bait,
or my days in likes,
my friends in followers,
sold to the midnight screen.

I praise what cannot be sold:
a look across a room,
an unhurried hello,
the uncluttered joy of a child at play,
the friend who says nothing
and stays, dissolved in conversation.

I praise the useless,
which is to say
the things we will still remember
when the great white noise
finally stops
and we return.

 

30/5/2026