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The Retiree
The
Retiree
It’s over too soon, the career you have chose.
The luncheon with old friends has come to a close.
You’ve turned in your uniforms, patrol car, and gun.
Now, you sit alone with the memories you won.
Your health is border line, from stress, poor food, and long nights.
You try to lose the weight you gained, it’s a fight.
The streets, the thugs, the adrenalin, you desire.
When you see a patrol car, the young cop you admire.
The Station, the Courthouse, the Jail you avoid.
It’s a world you no longer belong to, your presence annoyed.
Your conscious is clear, your job you done well.
The cases, the crooks, some still in jail.
The pension you earned, you would gladly return.
It’s the chase, the bust, the comradeship you yearn.
Kevin B. Motter
Member FOP Lodge 59
Lieutenant (Retired)