At play, that is what we are—we are
at play in a sandbox with no subtext, not just yet.

Smiles and sneers are traded equally in
the marketplace of young faces waiting to grow

older so we can stay up late and stay out late.
Can’t wait to show ourselves out and into

the sunset where, surely, happiness will soon find us.
How quick to put away the child-things we are,

only to reclaim them when we oughtn’t.
A world too harsh, too bleak for these children.

We long for the return of simplicity, but really
we just long for a taste of elsewhere. Of anywhere-but-here.