the day he turned sixty-five

the day he turned sixty-five, they gave him a solid gold watch, threw him a party goodbye, speeches and thanks a lot, friends slapped his shoulder and said lucky, it sure must be nice to have nothing to do, and nobody noticed the tear in his eye, the day he turned sixty-five, he fought in the great world war, lost a boy in vietnam, never drove anything but a ford, had a stubborn streak ford sedan, never ask anyone for one single dime, the national anthem sent chills up his spine, but something began feeling let down inside, the day he turned sixty-five, hard work was something that he understood, he pulled his own weight and it made him feel good, he still awakens at six everyday, but most of the time he just feels in the way, the day he turned sixty five, he pulled out the old photographs, stared at the wife by his side, and wished the lord could give her back, and they could go fishing or simply hold hands, and do all the things the two of them planned, and she would have noticed the tear in his eye, the day he turned sixty-five, and he could have kissed the tear from his eye, the day he turned sixty-five