It’s closing in on Christmas and all through this place,
Time is progressing at the slowest possible pace.
The socks and the shoes are filled with the usual stuff,
And the suits and the ties are all loaded with fluff.
While I in my office sit idly by,
Wishing and wishing for time to just fly.
And who, pray tell should soon to appear?
But an unwelcome visitor slowly drawing near.
It’s nobody special but still somewhat of a pain,
And likely whose mission my mind but to drain.
I’ll sparkle and spangle and make my impression,
Holding back my real feelings and thoughts of depression.
For one of these days, and I mean coming soon,
My life will be filled with the sun and the moon.
The wishing and hoping will then quickly turn
To smiling and doing, while this place I do spurn.
You ask for my meaning and what’s at its source?
That’s simple enough – its retirement, of course.
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