It was a race in which he’d wanted no part
Though like many before he’d been there from the start
But now he was tired and he needed to rest
The thrill wasn’t there now when he rose and got dressed
That tiresome trudge to the office each day
Where despite his own doubts, his opinions held sway.
But now so much older, his illusions all gone
He’d found that ‘big business’ really cared for no one
When the tipping point comes and profits all wane
They just close the factories, then move elsewhere again
This time investing in something quite new
And those left behind become jobless – like you.
These things he now pondered as he wrote the next word
His life in the rat-race had been stressed and absurd
There was never enough time to read a good book
His ear stuck to the phone he now kept off the hook.
Now he sits with his coffee, an Italian blend
And pens down new lines like they are a friend
He smiles at his wife knowing how he’s been blessed
At least from the rat-race, he’s no longer stressed.
©Joe Wilson – It’s a good race to leave…2015