Some day,
When I’m old and gray,
I’ll live in a house with an HOA.
Family smiles on the wall
And wood floors in the hall;
Nothing special, nothing at all
Like muss
Or fuss
Or need to cuss.
I’ll have an office with a view,
A nice car, or two,
A portfolio that grew
Into an existence of ease.
The sun, the breeze,
The leaves on the trees
That shade the sidewalk
Where I jog and I talk
With my neighbor about stock.
What a life it’ll be
When I’m sixty-three.
I’ll be happy then, you’ll see.
I’ll have enough hours
In the day to smell flowers,
To write, to make pictures, to dream, to engage the powers
Of my mind, if they haven’t faded,
Or I’ve become jaded
By all the minutes I traded
For money at work.
But I’d have to be some kind of jerk
Not to appreciate the perks
Of this life that I’ve built
(Not entirely without guilt)
Or to wilt
Like a plant without sun.
But enough; I’m done
With that drivel. I’ll have none.
From now on I’ll say,
“Onward and upward! Hooray!”
I’ll go to work in the day,
And come home when it’s night.
Have a drink, watch TV, start again when it’s light.

Right.