His Happy Life | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: His Happy Life | Previous Challenge Entry
By William Mae
06/21/06
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Of all the earth where wondering could inspire,
He chose a country farm to which retire.
He bid farewell to luxuries once employed,
And said hello, to daily bread for toil.
To preserve the candle wasted in his prime,
And satisfy the longing, in his mind.
To embrace the waning years of life’s decent,
And forget about the wasted, years he spent.
No more speeding through meetings every day,
He’s living out a much more pleasing way.

Outside his cabin door he breathes in deep,
Smiles at the morning silence that he meets.
He traded in his treasures, hoarded on this earth,
For simple riches, such as country mirth.
The appalling noise of bustling city streets,
Has dissipated now, left without a peep.
He could not help but bless, this joyful hour,
Trading for this cabin, his city tower.
For many this would be but ruined ground,
To him a priceless jewel, finally found.
He left his life behind, panting for this place,
Now bids farewell to all, ending his rat race.
The concrete walks and walls of soaring glass,
Appointment books and schedules now are trash.
His office room now holds an empty chair,
For the first time in years, he doesn’t care.
For now he has the time to read a book,
Or sit for hours by, the pensive brook.
He turns his privileged cot into a bed,
And hums the tunes once lost, inside his head.
This un-refined farm is his to till,
From front door far beyond, the bordering hill.
He frolics as a child upon his grounds,
Laughs at the peace, he has finally found.
His tillage land stretch beyond his view,
His labor not in vain when work is through.
Whether his land prospers or should fade,
Does not dampen the spirits of his blissful day.
His swelling breast with pride beneath his hat,
Happy the city’s where it is, and he is where he’s at.
Hitched his trousers, as if waiting the drummers roll,
Marched across his ground with heel to toe.
The devil cannot play the spoilers hand,
He’s far to happy living on his land.
Once married to the city, sought renown,
Divorcing that, he seeks a different crown.
He’ll husband out his days upon the earth,
Counting each one left, at having worth.
Leaving the City, he gladly closed that door,
And sought a life to him, that means much more.
Trading in his pencils and his pads,
To grab the horses withers and is glad.
He could not wait one day, or one more night,
Knowing that his farm was waiting his respite.
No murmur under breath of life’s regret,
Content to live today, for the one he’s not lived yet.
The past is gone, good ridden too he claims,
Not a wisp of doubt to leave a world insane.
He knows a witless fool some would say,
But he feels he is living, now his better days.

Paddling ducks cross a pond in fast retreat,
Replace the bustling sounds of city streets.
The smell of tillage ground in morning’s air,
Replace the smell of trash cans everywhere.
A crow call breaks into his silenced spell,
Replaces whistles horns and clanging bells.
The yelping dog who shadow barks at eve,
For the first time in years he’s finally free.
A candle flickering in the dark of night,
Replaces all those brightened city lights.
Is there happiness, where only nature lives,
Can it really replace the beauty, which the city gives?
To all it won’t, but some it will,
Who cherish open space, and barren hills.
To him it does, he loves the place he’s in,
After all it’s no one else, who lives inside his skin.

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