A Stable Job

I entrust my pension
To a silver town.

I have retired.

"I am different from others.
I was a civil servant."

The moment I enter the silver tower,
That scent of a silk road.

I drift off to sleep for a moment.

Awakening,
A dining table is spread out
Before me.

Five years later,
As the money in my pension runs low,

The food gradually grows saltier.
They are waiting for my death.

"You have basked in the sun for too long.
Soon, the moon will be waiting for you!"
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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