“Sonnet for Them”

Sometimes, on a passing day, they come here.

Gathering in local haunts and darkness,

We settle in to begin a new, dear,

Remembrance of days before the progress.

The world before us is so tiresome.

Unknown folly and mediocre friends 

Seem appealing before the day is done,

But they are never what the soul can mend.

We try them out - as we sip our spritzes -

Hoping - they too - will speak the same as we.

The lights of parties should quell our fixes...

They are never the same as you and me.

Coming home in solitude calms the heart 

As everything before will never part.