Sunset Years

They sat on the porch at the end of the day,

As the sun dipped on down toward the hills.

Their rocking chairs creaked as they drank in the view,

While frogs chorused with whip-poor-wills.

The old man heaved a sigh; he was tired and spent

From a long day of working up wood.

His wife touched his arm and he crooked her a smile;

They both knew he did more than he should.

Their three kids were grown, and had moved out of town.

They now had five grandchildren, too.

The old house was quiet, the bustle was gone--

It’d been bound to happen, they knew.

Once the kitchen was packed as they all milled about--

Under foot, in the way, crowded ‘round.

“There’s ten rooms in this house!” the old woman would shout.

They’d ignored her and turned up the sound!

How tight money’d been, how much sleep they had lost,

Wondering how to make all the ends meet.

So much time spent on schedules, at games or in class;

Driving at night, in the snow, in the sleet.

The battles they’d fought as they dealt with the stress--

Then the laughter when it was all done.

Back then, they’d had doubts about which one was sane...

Then concluded-- it was neither one!

Now the kitchen was hers, and their time was their own;

Though of course, there was plenty to do.

Even now, after years, they could still get perplexed

By the fact that they just “did” for two.

They pondered their lives as the sun finally slipped

Behind mountains a few miles away.

Were “golden years” golden? they asked of themselves

As night’s solitude conquered the day.

The old man stood up, and his back gave a “pop,”

And he groaned as he unlocked his knees.

Then he leered at his wife, wiggled gray, shaggy brows--

With himself he was surely quite pleased!

She looked up at her man as he smiled down at her,

Watched him run callused hands through his hair.

He gave her a wink as she got up, and said...

“Hey Gorgeous, I’ll race you upstairs!”