Glory Be, Retirement
the days all blend together
no pole to which to tether
daylight hours mostly a blur
nighttime now, nothing stirs
purposelessness leads to
hopelessness, on down to
depression, what's more
life's only a theoretical alternative
to death's cathartic purgative
old friends all forget me
relatives keep their distance
they must all be envious
of this hermit's existence
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2023
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