At A Certain Age Poem by Mark Heathcote

At a certain age
there is a tribal brotherhood
dress code of togetherness
often misunderstood.

Says, we'll take on all newcomers
it exaggerates
their tribal rites of passage
and attitude—status.

They've got courage,
and vitality, physical strength.
Each comrade, bother/
sister, true to his/herself.

It's like no other alliance,
they are soldiers
the title of which
leads us to many misnomers.

The likes of which,
they'll never come across again
they all set themselves
-apart from being underpinned.

Just the same; a hippie
that dark Goth, a mod, a punk,
they're all equally programmed
with personalities we debunk.

But I respect them personally
their individuality,
their stand-out behaviour
that steers clear of tedious banality.