It was deathly despair
that clouded tick tock
of my clock, when
the day was made
in part studying faces
fourteen of them in all -
I watched guys and girls
their heads carried
several shades of grey
and time wizened faces
were etched with memories
of varied roles they had
in bitter sweet drama of life
each had a separate tale
to tell, each had faced
a very different gale
yet unbeaten
they danced together
swung arm
to gentle rhythm -
as trees beckon
easterly breeze to stay
they too chose to summon
with desire some more
a little more time
for play.