contentedness

She wished me
to be
content, which
is the word,
to use,
though
I’d never used
it.
Or, rather,
she wished
for
me
contentedness, which is different, a little,
though not appreciably
so.
And I wondered
why
I never
thought of it
that way.
To be
content.
Not so much happy,
for that
might be much more
elusive –
happiness –
but just
to be
ok
with life.
But that’s not
exactly it, either. It’s to be
OK
with an OK
life.
To be: content.
It sounds better,
now, with each
sounding; not so
settled, or
settling,
or un-settling,
as it might
be
interpreted.
A wish for one’s contentment. A nice
thought.
I think.
I like it.
I’m content with it.