Since I Retired Poem by Phil Soar

Since I retired, I'm less inspired
In fact I'm comatose
I seem to be, almost 93
And have warts upon my nose
I'm sixty-five, feel half alive
And have lost my motivation
Like a train that's reached a terminus
I'm just standing at my station
To sit in a chair, without a care
Is a comfort quite profound
It's circumspect, I'm not dead yet
And I should be lithe and healthy
But the trouble is, I smell of piss
And I'm not even that wealthy
So maybe I'll see a therapist
Who can get me on my feet
Because before I'm done, I'm the only one
Not jogging down our street