Old Souls

One day, you think.
One day I will be boring
It’s not like you look forward to it.
You sort of accepted it as fact.
You sneak a sip of mom’s coffee,
And you wish she’d add more sugar.
You listen to parents tell an anecdote about the bank,
And to your horror, you laugh with them.
You grip your own mug of coffee a little tighter,
And take it with a grain of salt.
You have responsibility now.
You make your morning coffee and go to school.
You drive alone,
Your hands drum on the steering wheel,
The radio blasting an 80’s pop anthem.
You find yourself wondering ‘what happened to good music?’
You pull into the school parking lot and turn off your car.
You sit there doing nothing, until you see the strand of hair on your jeans.
You pick it up. It’s yours. It’s grey.
You walk into the school, keeping your headphones in.
You don’t like the noise.
You get invited to a real party. You decline,
Opting instead to catch up on sleep.
Go through the motions of a bland day, and leave.
You drive alone