Retirement Once On The Horizon Poem by Mark Heathcote

My eyes are dulled and tired
My hands are aching and cracked
My back is broken and bent
Lord knows I've no money to pay the rent
And I've never been wed
And I've not many years now left in the tank
And I'm not many years from being dead.
Oh, retirement once on the horizon,
Has now come to greet me
Unfruitful as a cratered moon at midnight
Acting all dusty, mysterious and divine
It whispers it's here for me
Like an ocean on a crested wave, on a rolling tide
It whispers here's the shore
Here's the shore you've always wanted to reach,
Isn't it a peachy sandy sort of beach?
My oh my, haven't you walked far
Grapes are wrinkling on the vine for sure
What's happened to all that time?
Where did it all go, lord
Don't let me fall behind now, lord
Let me come through, lord
Singing your name in praise, like a white cottonseed.
Lord, let me retire and drink some wine
With a heavenly angel divine,
With a ripe Pippin apple in the palm of her hand
I'm sure that's what both Adam and I once sang.