Retirement

Thirty years in the work force, 
I might have stopped earlier, of course, 
but kept on working with my hard-earned skills.
It kept me out of trouble and paid the bills.
Eight hours travail, then home in time
to do the "rest", which was nothing of the kind.
Friday night laundry and pushing the vacuum, Say?,
'til two in the morning so as have a free Saturday.
How did I do it without risking a seizure?  
As stay-at-home writer, do I have any leisure?
You guessed it: my busy life is out to get me.
I'd like to quit, but my Boss won't let me.

              for Andrea, who asks where I've been
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Tacito Avatar
December 11, 2011 at 2:21 PM
This was cute. Isn't it nice to be wanted? :)
Smith Avatar
December 11, 2011 at 8:24 AM
Hey, stop and you die. Keep pushing that vacuum and that pen. You write right well. signed, Boss
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