The cocktail meets my lips at last. The day has gone on much
Too long. The tasks at work were tough enough, but, afterward,
With ribs to smoke, a pool to clean in stifling heat, and grandkids,
Not one even five, en masse, amok throughout the house. They
Cried. They wanted my attention, even as I hoped they'd see
That I was in no mood for them. I turned away, and lay upon
The floor, and rubbed my aching back. It didn't help, but, in
Due time, the kids were led away from me, and, now, with
Cocktail to my lips and very little left to do, I contemplate
A brighter future, one in which I sleep.