Retirement Home Reverie ©

They came last night
And took her away,
Perhaps with luck,
I’ll go today.
Each day’s the same,
What else is new?
Another lunch,
Of Irish stew.
A cheerless tune,
A note or two,
Is struck upon the grand piano.
I look outside.
The birds are free
To come and go.
Unlike me,
Pre-eminent of all creation,
Can only sit in meditation
Feeling sorry for myself.
There must be more to life, I know.
Things to do,
Places to go.
But I sit here, as in a cell.
My life now but
An empty shell.
Memories of youth
And when we danced
I well remember.
My life, tho’ now in its December,
I’ll go back to then.
Although to you
My stare seems vacant,
I am there now, and happy.
Therefore, be you not complacent,
Build memories.
For when you do,
Just like me,
You can go there too.