The radio burbles on my bench
It's “La Première” in French
Fresh coffee burbles in the pot
The clock ticks – seven on the dot.
My daily routine, time to think
As I swill dishes in the sink
What will bring joy in my day?
I've no appointments – who can say?
But I'm retired, so that is fine
Much of my day I know is mine
So I ponder on the “younger set”
Whose business lives means that they get
More stress, less sleep, short time to eat
Always rushing in the street,
Burning candles at both ends
Using each hour that God sends
To earn their crust, taxed to the hilt
Assuage with overtime their guilt
In quest of the great God of Greed;
How much money do we need?
The paradox is we're “time poor”
And time, once lost, returns no more;
Through the kitchen window I can see
The golden sun – which shines for free!
(c) Poet in the woods 2016