Every day’s a Saturday
when you’re as old as I.
A weekend’s nothing special anymore.
Retirement means sleeping in
and coffee on the deck
before you do the things that you adore.

For me, it’s writing poetry
or taking photographs
or going for a long walk in the park.
For Peter, a new friend of mine,
it’s working in his yard
or blowing glass creating priceless art.

Such lazy days are not a waste.
When doing what we love,
there’s meaning and fulfillment in our play.
The stress of work is in the past.
Deadlines are six-feet-down.
No wonder every day’s a Saturday!