Teen Ink

   They sit in the library

unaware of how long they have been there,

three students joined in a clandestine laugh

over some obscure hilarity.

They recline in the rigid wooden chairs

as if they were regal thrones adorned with velvet cushions.

They revel in the pure, delirious disregard

of assignments untouched and thoughts uncontemplated

that only students can know.

A sense of purpose has brought them here -

maybe it was to dig up more on the French Revolution,

or obsess over that research paper coming up,

or to reflect on the inane actions of society,

or to discuss the eternal cycle of war and peace.

Maybe.

But perhaps, on this occasion,

they only came to laugh.