Today's poem is by Ronald Wallace

In Retirement

He said he would do nothing.
Now isn't that something!
Imagine that: nothing.
After a long and fulfilling career
he would just stay home
and pick his toes. His wife
wasn't having it. She
would see to it he had
something to do. She,
after all, had her book
group, aerobics, investment
club, church, she had
a life. He should get one,
she said. Said she.
He would do nothing over her
dead body. He would not do
nothing if she had anything
to do with it. She had
big ideas for him. And nothing
had nothing to do with them.
But nothing she said could
dissuade him. Fact is,
after thirty-odd years
of doing so much of something,
what now, exactly, was it
he did? He really enjoyed
doing nothing. Or so he said
until, exasperated, she died.
And that was something that
he hadn't counted on. That gave
him something to think on
as he sat there with nothing
to do, and knew there was nothing
to be done about it.

Copyright © 2007 Ronald Wallace All rights reserved
from Green Mountains Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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