Having turned fifty-seven this week,
the hope of retirement in eight years seems bleak.
Thinking of losing my income somehow,
is much too scary to think of just now.
To think of not having two jobs but just one
is a dream for a long time in the future to come.
For if I step down from my duties to care,
who would assume the role that I bear?
Who would be there to scratch his frequent itch?
Or to set up the peddler when his leg starts to twitch?
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