California Retirement Communithy
It's safe here, I suppose,
and the rents don't climb too often.
I may ho hum in perfect peace, to the credit
of no one in particular.
Pleasures are in short supply and "they"
won't let me feed the squirrels--
some nonsense about diseases;
in my youth I was a master at that,
every day back home
upon the courthouse lawn.
And what's the point, you ask?
We dodderers need none. There are
our waiting graves to make excuses
for us. They are eloquent enough.
Silent for the nonce, they speak
in hints, apologies and metaphor.
(I find I have a special need for those)
All is not lost, however.
I'm about to release my report
on an important new project:
If fingers can twiddle as effectively
...in reverse.
~
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
