When I am ancient - in a year or two, <br />and they figure I'm only fit for glue, <br />I'll have had the time to think it through <br />and I'll do some things I've been waiting to do. <br />I'll be finicky, crotchety and crabby <br />and I'll sit in the sun with an old grey tabby <br />and a chubby chihuahua on my lap <br />and I'll give no quarter and take no crap. <br />And I'll pull no punches and I won't be kind <br />if it dulls the edge of the yataghan mind <br />which I'll subdivide with my rapier wit <br />and I'll give everybody a piece of it <br />tactless and indiscreet, albeit - <br />the truth according to how I see it, <br />with instructions on how the world should run <br />and almost everything ought to be done. <br />And no one will ever dare talk back <br />for fear it might give me a heart attack. <br />But I'll be a wise and tough old bird <br />with a stubborn insistence on being heard <br />and I'll stay around until I'm finished <br />with all my faculties undiminished <br />and my eyes will be clear and my hands will be steady <br />and I'll die when I'm damn good and ready.<br /><br />Linda Stitt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/retirement-plan/
