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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2229382-Retirement-Blues
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Personal · #2229382
A lack of work in progress
Retirement Blues

Lying in bed snug in my head,
I’m lacking a reason to rise.
Sleeping in late, no workday awaits,
no struggle, no strain, and no prize.

Drag myself up, grab me a cup,
then settle back down with the news.
Cat in my lap taking a nap,
it’s purring me into a snooze.

News becomes old, crossword unfolds;
the TV drones round like a fly.
Magazines spread, good books unread;
desperately killing off time.

Playing alone, tapping my phone,
no calls to pick up or return.
Syncing email doesn’t avail,
a lesson I can’t seem to learn.

Pendulum clock ticks out its tocks
as the minutes dance by like hours.
Look at the time, wait for the chime;
enough of smelling the flowers!

Gaze at my wife, love of my life;
another day lacking surprise.
Once we had dates, now we’re just mates,
desire has gone from our eyes.

Stories go stale, repeating tales;
life imitates art that’s gone gray.
Weather is trite, good day and night,
our small talk has little to say.

Children are grown, out on their own;
their happy noise once was our song.
Kids that leave home need room to roam,
grand dreams put on hold for too long.

Go for a walk, circle the block,
the old guy with nothing to do.
Re-mow the lawn, afternoon gone,
then supper appears right on cue.

Glass of cheap wine helps pass the time,
red cobweb etches my nose.
Bittersweet dregs of a life mislaid;
oh, where did all the time go?

Darkness descends, another day ends,
it’s off to my bed for repose.
Lying awake, feeling the aches,
unable to let my eyes close.

How many days ‘til life slips away?
I’m coming apart at the seams.
Years left behind, cruel and kind,
fading away like a dream.

What will live on after I’m gone?
No children of children to come.
Will anyone care, know I was there,
when it’s time for life to be summed?


Terrence G. Fisher 2020
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