Retirement

by Carlos Borges

After thirty-nine years of work

He clocks-out for the last time.

Family and friends gather round

Eating, drinking – jokes abound

After thirty-nine years of work

What is one supposed to do?

Babysit grandkids – make art

Too many hours till it gets dark

Rocking in a chair at dusk

Smirking at the jets overhead.

Pension provides the daily crust

Summer heatwave rolls across

A lot changes after forty years,

But not the taste of cheap beer.

Vision and hearing declines

Twisting in bed like an ivy vine

Soft, green grass under feet

Swans honk at passing cars.

Thoughts wander, near and far

The dirt beneath is bittersweet.