My Poetry. Civility.

A gentle word, a quiet grace,
A smile that softens time and space.
In hurried worlds where tempers rise,
Civility is where the true peace lies.
It’s not in grand or loud display,
But in the kindness we convey.

A steady tone, a listening ear,
A bridge that draws the distant near.
It asks no more than simple care—
To treat all souls as though they're rare.
To speak with thought, to stand with calm,
To offer truth as well as balm.

This careful grace is not a weakness, no—
It’s inner strength, a seed that helps us grow.
The quiet power of a focused, thoughtful mind,
The hardest patience that the heart can find.
It means we honour difference, noise, and fear,
And choose the light when shadows hover near.

In every simple act, both small and wide,
Civility walks firmly by our side.
It is the choice to pause before we strike,
To look at others and find something to like.
A shield against the sharp, divisive sound,
It builds the common, solid, human ground.

It shapes the city street and public square,
The simple contract that we all must share.
To lift the standard, though the crowd may fall,
And answer anger with no rage at all.
A lasting promise, written in our deed,
To meet the world with dignity and need.

© William Sinclair Manson 2025