Plan for retirement

A brisk morning walk,
dog at my heels, the
frost upon the heath a
pot of coffee hot at home
and I so old, my garden grown.

Fuck.

I'd break my leg the dog
awash in sores and I too
afraid to know why to call
to end the pain the coffee
pot is thick with mold I need
a corner store to stay alive.

Where am I from? When will I leave or have I?
What is the country? Is it bad? "mine?" and "the?" and "ours?"

Ah, this morning felt like heaven and the afternoon,
and evening too. Remember it, they always say
but how.