Promised Land

Promised Land


The carrot dangling from a stick,
that kept me going all this time,
was an illusion. Just a trick
to keep me happy on my climb.

Retirement! The Promised Land
with time to pursue all my dreams.
Now that the moment is at hand,
I’ve forgotten why, it seems.

I never had a “silver spoon”
nor French champagne or vintage wine.
Extravagance was a “Blue Moon,”
and plastic knives and forks worked fine.

I served my country (quite proudly).
I paid my taxes (and complained).
I raised a family (sometimes loudly),
did all the things that were ingrained.

So, why do I feel disappointed?
My thoughts go back to long ago
when the world seemed less disjointed;
a time when “progress” seemed more slow.

A time when elders offered wisdom
long before the internet.
They were the mentors we learned from.
Now, they’re just more to forget.

A time when work was done with pride.
“Made In China” was seldom seen
before the turning of the tide
where success is measured just in green.

I’ve traveled a long road to here
and “here’s” not where I thought, it seems.
Time is change – that much is clear,
so I guess I’ll just update my dreams!

Notes:

An entry for August round of "SENIOR CENTER FORUM" 

Prompt: Must use the word “dreams.”

Blue Moon - for those unaware - is a beer.

Thank you for taking time to read my words. I would appreciate it if you took a moment and left a comment. Your reaction, impressions, criticisms, - yes, even praise - are all equally welcome.