Saving

I’m saving for my retirement, he said
As he polished his broken-down shoes
He worked like slave til his chilblains bled
And he never bought anything new
He ate only foods of the cheapest variety
And practised the virtues of frugal sobriety
His home was sparse and squeaking clean
Without internet, phone, or TV
If asked he’d say I am not mean
I’m saving my money for me
I’m saving for my retirement, he said
He was just fifty-three when he died in his bed

©jj 2020