Nights

Skies dim in the evening
and I remember the halls darkening.
The girls come back
scantily dressed in bikinis and rags
and grass blades on their legs
when no one was home
but a darkened corridor
and a creaking door to greet them.
It's lonely on the marshes
where the boys sat
on their own, by the swings
wishing they were by themselves
but no
they return
to scantily dressed girls
in bikinis and rags
and a darkened corridor
and a creaking door.
It's never been lonelier
surrounded by others
only to wish there was
maybe, perhaps
a way out.