Ode to Seasoned Citizens
I live in Senior Housing, where the tropic sun does shine.
The palms are swaying gently, and the jasmine smells just fine.
A lifetime spent in toiling for my family now has ceased;
I lie upon the beach enjoying sunshine streaming east.
My meals are ready for me when I go back to the house.
They feature four-star cooking, sometimes tossing in a grouse.
I spend my afternoons out on the golf course with my friends.
At night we all go out to shows in my Mercedes Benz.
A nurse looks in upon me once a week, and gives me meds.
The rec room offers pinochle, with chips and dips and spreads.
Yes, for this splendid sunset of my life I do give thanks.
(The funds for all this bliss I got by robbing two small banks.)