In the corner café my coffee in hand

In the corner café, my coffee in hand,

i’m the youngest soul in this time-weathered band.

Gray hair threads through laughter, stories align,

while I sip on my latte, their wisdom divine.

A talk of retirement, and life’s careful dance,

the weight of their voices puts me in a trance.

I feel the divide, the years as they climb,

while I’m left to wonder, am I running out of time?