8 Months till I retire,
8 months till I retire,
the jolly older man
wrapped himself
in an extra layer,
keeping the cold
and my grumpiness
at being rousted
by his arrival
from puncturing
his Florida disposition.
Is the house already picked out?
He pulls at the basement door
like a kid being told to eat
his lima beans.
Oh, it's stuck.
Ah well.
See you in April!
Eight Months till I retire!
onto the next house I go!
His feet melt the snow underneath
as his whole body
consumed the thought
and is already
packed.
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