Retirement Sometimes Comes...
On a cold winter night
she sits by the fire-place
nesting her frail frame
on grandma’s rocking chair
listening to the burning wood
the crackling sound of embers
tickle her ears like a lover’s tongue
her brooding eyes focus in deep study
she is reading Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code
unmindful of Angel taking a nap
by the lamp post
with her cute manicured paw
balancing her milky face
empty of purr and punishment
ears twitching like a disturbed twig
on a potted plant
in a moment of broken silence
my padded feet screeched across
the oak-finished wooden floor
proximity of distance where she sat
is almost measured in six or ten winks
of my sleepy eyes
maybe equal to two arms length, not sure
in my right hand is cupped a soft ball
with feathered rubber skin
and just as the night wants to relax
without knowing the color of day
I roll the ball across her back
in sensuous massage meandering
without knowing the color of her pain
retirement sometimes comes
with mysterious prices..
poem by Leonard Dabydeen
Added by Poetry Lover
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