The Smug Senior

by

Ruth Martinusson

How nice to live as I am able,
With plenty of food upon my table;
To go to bed without the fear
Of grim disaster looming near.
How nice to have all the amenities
Of modern public utilities;
To know the ease of calling home
When I set out the world to roam.
How nice to live a life of leisure
With nothing to do but seek out pleasure;
To have no tiresome financial constraints,
No toil, no sweat, no nagging complaints.
But then suppose through some bad luck
My snug utopia should come unstuck,
Could I, with grace, predominate
Against the blows of capricious fate?

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