When I was a young lad working and being in school,
I fantasied being retired and having no worry and nothing to do.
No money problems, no issues, no one nagging me to the core,
No problems to confront me, no nay -sayers hanging around.
Then I hit thirty, three kids and a wife anchored me in the sea,
I had learned that my penis had a function more than to pee.
I worked three jobs to get through those precious years of strife,
Worked from the early morning to the nighttime and cursed my life.
At forty I figured I was getting ahead of the game,
Gray hairs started to appear and my mind heard voices, how inane.
At fifty I looked forward to retirement and at sixty I tried it for a while,
But the bills kept a coming and the IRS man had a crocodile smile.
And then at sixty- five I figured I was done and could sit in the rocker with no care,
Stupid me, bald and toothless, the mind drifting to senility, life is not fair.
Now I am seventy- one and back to work, the body needs to move,
The mind needs to be worked, stop and die, stay in the groove.
No more thoughts of the rocker, I see it as a place to die,
I seek the tranquility of using the body and mind, as I soar towards the sky.