My Poem On Retirement

On Retirement

Time is my enemy.
The calendar pages fade and fall, my
Life winds down like a worn-out spring.
A relentless alarm wrings a warning,
My sole reminder.
The rest hum by without a glance, or
Hover near, like flies that swarm on ripe plums.
I’m alone in a foreign land searching to
Turn back the clock. Seeking a soul surgeon to
Crush the mounting ache in my gut.
Racing around for help, the search futile, my
Deadline is near, I face an empty void.
Time is my enemy.