There’s four of them, circling around the table,
not doing or thinking of tomorrow.
Just simple thoughts and words shared
to each other. Today yet another day.
Dressed mostly in black, with random assortments
in their hair for fashion, as teens are oft to do.
They are decorated for the world.
Declaring themselves personable celebrations.
So I look at them and see
and envy them as wonderful, as of beauty.
And I long to be with them... to be them
Pack up my stuff never to return.
But I dawdle, with a gaze that looks slightly downward.
Another chuckle overheard.
They all get up, straighten their posture.
And, without me, listlessly walk out the door