Past My Heyday

For fifty years I went to work Minimum wage; was I a jerk I'd slave away every day Bus ride home, eat, hit the hay Now a new life has opened up for me Doing something I can hardly believe Waking up, I go outside; gaze at the grass, sky and trees Thus fortified, I head back in and write poetry It'll never pay the bills, but there are no bills to pay Only one complaint ~ I keep on hitting the hay