They were young at the stage when old people
But not your granny look funny, those young faces looking
Or perhaps not into the future without any trepidation
I enjoyed their laughter even if it was directed at me with
Hair was sticking out of my baseball cap; they looked edible.
I knew with resigned sadness when they came to age I would
Be no more and they would stop laughing and face
A future of devastation, need and hunger and many of them
Perhaps most die of wars no of their making but of what
Political leaders decide today
Despite this foreknowledge, I would like to be there
And laugh with the survivors.