A filing cabinet
lies empty, case closed,
its keys left on
a dusty floor.
Familiar, mundane chores
are set aside now
to be lost or
await new brooms.
Where are the keys
to my tomorrows?
My new life
has yet to come.
I await my rebirth
as an older citizen,
freedom pass to hand,
as a golden Autumn dawns.
This retirement lark may be
a drawn out plod
to the grave
but I'm not giving in.
I wink at it
with blurred vision,
and a cheeky smile,
I'm finally free
while I thumb my nose
at old age.
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Comments about this poem (Retirement by Ruth Walters )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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