Now, don't mind me, but ...

I'm in residential treatment and
there are three of us over the age of sixty here.
We are amongst the most cheerful of the lot.

And here at the psychiatric treatment center,
some of the saddest, most distraught of patients
are those who are the youngest
(you have to be at the age of consent: eighteen or older).

Mind you, we three "elderlies" have our issues or we would not be here to begin with.
But, somehow, we feel thankful to have survived this far.
Meanwhile the youngsters, some of them,
go through each day as though it is the end of the world.
It makes me stop to think.