Array ( [sid] => 182720 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Destination unknown [time] => 2016-03-05 13:39:44 [hometext] => Take the last exit! [bodytext] => For those who worked hard all their days;
It comes as quite a shock
To shift gears to a workless phase;
Without a ticking clock.

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, pass without a reason
The less we do, the less we can;
In this our final season.

Glory days my friends all praise;
When they were busy doing!
Our good old days of chasing;
A future worth pursuing!

No time to dwell on aches and pains;
No time to stay in bed.
Tick tock the clock our youth did mock;
We cared not what it said!

At last the body rules the mind;
We walk instead of racing;
Children grow and old friends go;
Our historys erasing.

Some paint or write or garden
Or shop, or sail the seas;
Or volunteer with others;
at church or charities.

But I won’t be retiring soon;
Although the sign says “STOP”;
I’m scared I’ll be pulled over;
Unless I punch that clock!

My life’s been one long highway;
And Im a saddletramp;
Who longs to see what waits for me
Beyond that exit ramp. [comments] => 4 [counter] => 237 [topic] => 60 [informant] => softerware [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => insomniac ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Destination unknown


Destination unknown
Date: Saturday, 5th March 2016 @ 01:39:44 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: softerware
For those who worked hard all their days;
It comes as quite a shock
To shift gears to a workless phase;
Without a ticking clock.

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, pass without a reason
The less we do, the less we can;
In this our final season.

Glory days my friends all praise;
When they were busy doing!
Our good old days of chasing;
A future worth pursuing!

No time to dwell on aches and pains;
No time to stay in bed.
Tick tock the clock our youth did mock;
We cared not what it said!

At last the body rules the mind;
We walk instead of racing;
Children grow and old friends go;
Our historys erasing.

Some paint or write or garden
Or shop, or sail the seas;
Or volunteer with others;
at church or charities.

But I won’t be retiring soon;
Although the sign says “STOP”;
I’m scared I’ll be pulled over;
Unless I punch that clock!

My life’s been one long highway;
And Im a saddletramp;
Who longs to see what waits for me
Beyond that exit ramp.

This poem is Copyright © softerware


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