by Mark F. Stone

“Investors grow pessimistic about the market as stocks resume sliding.”
—CNBC

I’ve worked since the summer when I was thirteen.
Selling pink lemonade gave me plenty of green.

I want to retire, but it won’t be today.
I call my investments “my 201K.”

Those investments are melting. I’m getting depressed.
They’re melting as fast as the Witch of the West.

There is no safe harbor. I can’t find a hedge.
I’m starting to panic. I’m out on the ledge.

I’m scared of the NASDAQ, the SPY and the DOW.
My cash in the mattress? That’s where I’m at now.

In the sweet golden years that I’ve worked for and planned,
I see drinks with umbrellas, imbibed on the strand.

But unless I profoundly rebound, I’m afraid
I’ll be back in a booth selling pink lemonade.