Basking in the summer sun,
warm breeze against my face;
spring is now an afterthought,
of spring... there is no trace.

The heat is dry and sauna-like,
there's no moisture in the air;
the humidity is nil,
in cloudless skies so fair.

The shaded porch is refuge.
to Sol's intensive rays;
a novel "kills" some time,
of endless, sunny days.

My day begins at five a.m.,
with coffee and a walk;
it ends at nine p.m.,
with mundane, t.v. talk.

This is my retirement,
the golden years fly by;
at peace, with solitude,
that's me, myself and I.