Strangers Poem by Not Long Left

Uncountable clouds of smoke
congregate around a yellow ceiling
Hallowing there victims.

In the uncomftable yet reasuring
silence of our conversation
we drifted, like shadows.
stealing snippets of beer flavoured talk
Thinking I was, still am young.
Indifference is a lonely job
although it can never be said.
I noticed father focusing on a
leg of unstreched silken flesh
mother can no longer compete
yet she can cook, clean and forgive.

Young and old look down and sigh
raising the glass in the passed on way.
Car lights catch us, it shall not be discussed.
Fruit machine coughs up some coins
someone drops a glass, people laugh.
We decide to leave, quality time is
left in the pint glass, it is quickly removed.

Father turns the car radio on,
and says we used to sing this when you were younger
Neither us say anything more.