Poem By William B. Deutscher
Your last day here, thirty years
On the road to something else,
The bounty of a hedging reward
Laid out like some glittering promise
Of ultimate fulfillment:
"I didn't want to retire now,
The bastards are forcing me to, "
But now you shake hands with colleagues
As people left to work regard you, enviously
Eyeing their own vistas of enjoyment,
In a far-off future.