Purpose may be crafted out of nothing
Tools & Skills put to other uses
A Poet can write of Life
While searching for whatever amuses
Comfort in ageing is quietness
Inside where the doubts are clamouring
Peace is a mind filled with ripples
After a lifetime's endless hammering
Yes, the vistas of retirement are daunting
Left behind by a purposeful world
The book of one's life still open
But stuck on a page unturned
Sit back though and watch all the faces
Give labels and names to their expressions
See yourself walking beside them
Was that you? Were those your intentions?
It's the Noise I think is the problem
The white hiss that Time is leaking
But that noise is your system balancing
It is fresh air coming in and spring cleaning
Don't be staring ahead, just find a blank sheet
Put your name at the Bottom...
And fill it
This is not your Winter Of Discontent
But the Glorious Harvest of Autumn...
If you will it!
Thank you Lori Jones McCaffery for setting the seeds for this poem.
— The End —