Their school uniforms flattered

their conversation, overheard

as it was

in coffee shop in Waterloo,

over tea and a snack before

heading back to school, tucked

back in blouse, the giggle of fifteen

year youth as they congratulated

themselves on skiving off a lesson

for an hour, and the slurp

of how they shall get fat,

should they do this all year.

I rolled my eyes, I could not

sanction or approve of such time wasting,

the skive, one lesson, all for a buttered scone