I must stop nibbling
At nuts and raisins,
Or texting my son about
Nothing,
Or wondering where
My Ollie is.
Half my life
I’m on my own,
Retired,
My wife out working.
So I write the odd poem,
Watch too much telly,
And chase the cat
From the sink.
Is this what things
Have come to? ,
I ready and able,
With no-one calling,
Perhaps too lazy
To live?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sad indictment on one of the downsides of retirement, not having enough to keep you busy.