In the quiet, where silence reigns,
What does it mean when your voice remains?
If I speak to you, and you don’t reply,
A weight in the air, a question, and why?

At sixty-eight, I’ve seen quite a bit,
Life’s a journey, and I won’t just sit.
Retirement isn’t just a job’s end,
It’s the freedom to choose, to break and to bend.

Every turn, someone’s got something to say,
But I’m not here moaning, just living my way.
No heads...