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Poem: A Retiree's Journal

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I will write
what has happened down exactly
as I have experienced it.
Words being symbols of the above, of course.

I sat myself down and wondered whether
it was time to eat dinner.

I turned the radio off. The drumming was getting me down.

I heard the telephone ring and went inside to check whether
it was anybody calling me, personally, or just some telemarketer.
Obviously it was the latter.

Time is slipping away, but, in one sense only, not fast enough.

I miss everything that went before.

I look forward to a knock on my door;
be it from a friend passing by,
or a witness for Jehovah.

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