I'm lonely, Lord, this cruel spring day.
I've lost the will; I've lost the way.
And this ill wind that bends the trees
blows in my face a bitter breeze.
I'm empty as an arid cloud,
left lifeless in a corpse-clad shroud.
I've ceased to toil without a rest
to feather someone else's nest.
I've left the busy world of work.
Behind my window blinds I lurk,
to watch the race I’ve left behind.
I’m morbid, so by most, maligned.
I'm ageing like a knotted oak.
To not one soul this day I've spoke.
The years slip by as I sit still
upon this unfrequented hill.
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 19th, 2023 01:32
- Comment from author about the poem: Maybe how some people feel after retiring?
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
I have been retired for 11 years now and loved every minute of it Kevin.
All I can advise is that you look out and find something to do that will interest you.
There is an organisation called u3a (University of the Third Age) which has many different type of groups for people of our age to join.
Andy
Thanks, Andy. Yeah, I'm kind of semi-retired at the moment. Retired from teaching and doing part-time caretaking at church. I was thinking of how some retired people feel who have nothing to do. By the way, U3a have regular meetings at my church. Again, thanks for your encouraging feedback!
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