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.