Retirement Poem by James McLain

Night was made for silent consolation,
holding the dawn at bay.
Ticking the clock to loudly, shadow's roam
down the hall softly talking.
The hot humid day, cooling dusk stays,
board's that creak, the stairs.
She is now ready I hear, she I have heard
he has been gone for some year's.
She never used drug's, she never drank.
She behaved thinking about what other's
might think.
Having no kid's she lived alone.
Once being kid's the children she taught
came around, grown now they sent her off.