Weary

We did our job; we lived our lives

So why should we let others choose?

It’s our golden years; we survived

We walked in our own damned shoes

Now it’s time for bad or worse

To do the things we haven’t done

All those years we stayed the course

There was no honor in being young

Our remaining days should be ours

However weary long or anxious short

However short the days and long the hours

Our end will be that day in judgment court

Weary bones and tired eyes

Is the penance for our deeds

What we’ve done has all been tried

Now we reap the scant proceeds

©5/24/09Terry Sutherland