Is this a poem?

I must have missed the memo;

I'm supposed to be enjoying my retirement?

I remember being a child on Christmas morning.

First it was oatmeal and church, because

Mother had her routine, but

More love than I have seen since.

The pedal car and the high-top boots were always too expensive, but

One of the first ballpoint pens was a pleasant surprise,

And almost a foot long.

Then. life intruded, and

After years of what my son once described as mere contentment

 Rather than joy,

Followed by the present threat of a coming period

Of social upheaval,

Now I hope there is a Heaven

Where I can finally recover that Christmas feeling.