I'm retired now from working,
but nowhere near from life;
I'm done with all that parenting
stuff, scot-free from any wife.
I’m not alone, nor am I lonely,
contentment’s now my plight;
no longer burdened by my life,
it’s of my life here that I write:
I’m residing now in Key West
in a small artsy, comfy, condo;
Vinnie, my VW bus, 'n myself,
with lotsa beer and lotsa bondo.
Two gracefully aging bodies,
sharing one fun youthful spirit;
we refuse to ever act our age:
ask why, and we won’t hear it.
We’re both getting a bit rusty,
yet we still go hunting up fun;
our evenings may end sooner,
yet we always get ‘er done.
We creak ‘n ache now and then,
the day after when feeling stiff,
we have our WD-40 ‘n aspirin
to adequately lube 'n give a lift.
Most heads turn 'n cameras click,
whenever we come cruising by;
kids smile and make peace signs,
while the elderly pause ‘n sigh.
A fantasy here on Fantasy Island;
while others dream vicariously,
we're living large in first person:
two old coots down by the sea.
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