Retiree's Lament

 

No love at midnight

No one on my mind I would love, 

I would want to kiss at midnight.

Love tittered and see-sawed

I spanned the globe

And ended up here in the woods

Alone when the ball drops

With no romance at midnight 

But plenty of family love to share.

The exhilaration, the ecstasy

Of being in love and loved 

Silly me, shriveled, old, excited.

Life on strike without love

Everything done reluctantly.

A "so what" world of short-term memory

A thousand books on hand

Dozens of cable channels

Unfinished manuscripts called wallpaper.

'Do not talk of love,' she said.

But that is all I have.

Love is a skeleton without flesh.

At the end of a long, long ride

On a morning it hovers like fog

Remains throughout the day 

Eventually the feeling evaporates.

Into crevices under cobblestones

Becomes a day like any other.

Is it not wasted on a retiree? 

With time on his hands

But not enough destinations

Not enough companions

Too much entertainment

Detached and left complacent. 

In a pit stop called retirement

How many hours can one endure.

The cold cracking emptiness of some more. 

How many minutes make up the day

Of unprocessed memories that won't go away.

How high can we see the blue bird fly

through the fog into the starry sky

Feb 1, 2024