retirement poem

when freedom from her mountain height
who loves the rain
quietly, with reverance, in awe
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
he came and took me by the hand
in his guarded tent
i bid them all farewell
one by one, like leaves from a tree
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
musing, between the sunset and the dark
i've won the race
let me be sad
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying