In about a decade—and maybe less—
They’ll be there knocking hard against the door:
The kids whose year of birth starts with “two-oh,”
Convinced that it’s their time to take the floor.
At first we’ll shake our heads in disbelief
And then we’ll mock their raw, untutored ways
And finally we’ll sit there in a daze,
Our burning anger yielding thus to grief.
Of course we’ve seen this sort of thing before
But then we were the ones proclaiming, “Go!”
Eventually each cohort ends their tour.
That’s the awful way the world works, I guess.