Younger Hum

The coffee shop hums, a low, sweet sound,

but it's not my tune, I've found.

Their faces, smooth, with a bright new shine,

not a single worry, not a single line.

Their laughter, quick and sharp, like glass,

mine feels slower now, as moments pass.

Phone screens glow blue on their young, quick hands,

navigating worlds I barely understand.

A beat from headphones, a tinny, faint song,

a rhythm I haven't followed along.

I stir my cup, the spoon scrapes low,

a quiet drop, watching their currents flow.

I’m here, I’m here, but a little outside,

caught in a different tide.

The windows mist, it's cool today,

and some things, just fade away.