The Old Ones by David 'Hemmingway' Holman-Hill Waters

 

The Old Ones

 

Around nine I went down to the library where the old ones meet. 

Outside, one of the old ones was taking coffee and pastries.

Together we ate pastries and drank coffee.

At ten we went in to the room where, on Fridays,

the old ones meet to tell their stories and reminisce.

Some of the old ones weren’t there.

It can be like that with the old ones.

Sometimes they’re not all there.

Some of the old ones are very old.

Just before noon some of the very old ones left.

I awoke around three.

The old ones had gone and the doors were locked.

It can be like that when you’re a very old one.