I asked myself
Am I retired?
Some days I feel
Like I’m expired
My days are full
Sometimes too much
Driving grandson
Errands and such
I go to the gym
Sweat up a storm
Truth be told
It’s way too warm
Off to Montana
To lend a hand
Helping family
Is always grand
Writing a novel,
A poem or a skit
I spend my hours
Wordsmithing it.
I planted some flowers
First time in my life
My husband’s still asking
Are you sure you’re my wife?
Fifty long years
We’ve been together
For better or worse
And in stormy weather
I’ll be eighty soon
I’m amazed every day
I was so busy
The years flew away
A sabbatical leave
I took time to mend
To rest and relax
Get a second wind.
I’m never bored
New ideas fill my head
Guess I’ll keep busy
Until I am dead
Thanks to the guild
An excuse at times
To meet other writers
And write silly rhymes.
I’m not expired
I’m not in a rut
But I enjoy plenty of time
To sit on my . . .
Swing and write silly rhymes.