Forty years have come and gone, Since I first awoke at dawn, To sweep the dew from caravan lanes, And listen to the skylark's refrains. The seasons cycled, sun and rain, Each visitor a brief refrain; Stories whispered in the breeze, Life’s tapestry among the trees. Sunset paints the canvas sky, As laughter echoes, time slips by; Gravel paths and morning light, Turn decades into sheer delight. Though winds may shift, years still flee, This caravan park is home to me; A haven where my heart found grace, In simple moments, I found my place.