Club of the Old

And I found myself sitting
on the edge of a conversation
near a round table
watching the adults I looked up to when
I was young, now old and wrinkled
less of childhood paragons
and now but simple folk.

They talked of the
depression and war
as if they had just been finished yesterday
relishing the moments of hardship
while basking in the warm glow
of the sun and modern luxury.

I could have joined them
as an equal though my life
was much shorter then theirs
they would have watched
me wallow in my pain with knowing glances
understanding my feeling left unspoken
dues for membership
in the club of the old.

My child then came
to the table to speak of things
big upon his mind, ideas that
were not in existence
in my childhood or theirs
but crucially important to his young mind
eager at showing his credentials
for becoming a person
now aware
that his insight was as meaningful
as the songs of birds in the casual forest.