Retired
She almost has said, “You are retired, remember?”
The old man of course cannot read her mind
nor he can draw lines; forgetting the affair
that last month he has cleared out his drawers, cabinets;
has received the gifts and flowers- now long withered.
Still he comes with his arthritic pair of legs;
tells the new boys the proper working process.
His face has always borne some uncanny whiteness;
now he resembles a ghost if there are such things.
And they cannot tell anything to a past’s man.
He’ll come at ten; spread the ancient wisdom.
The office whispers; buzzes past; there’s no takers.
One day
he dies.
The office still waits.
They all know
he still will come.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar


Comments: 50
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
Sorry for the short comment but, my medication from my root canal is making me drowsy.
Well, it is!
It feels like someone inspired this, but I could be wrong. If so, I wonder who? I know of these people, and am related to one. You hit it dead-on. Perfectly.
Marilyn
Superb!
Thanks for posting in Journey Into Poetry !