The sun dips low, a golden arc,
Whispering tales of days long past.
As shadows stretch, the heart embarks,
On paths where peace is meant to last.

The clock ticks slow, a gentle chime,
Each moment savored, sweet and clear.
In gardens wild, the soul finds time,
To bloom anew, with none to fear.

The hands once busy, now at rest,
In quietude, dreams softly wake.
Life’s gentle rhythm, at its best,
A tapestry that years will make.

So let us wander, side by side,
Through twilight’s calm, so vast, so wide.
In retirement’s arms, we shall abide,
With love and peace, our constant guide.