The Storyteller

They came again last night.
Another group.
Laughing, tripping, giggling,
Wanting to hear a good story.
I told them again,
The same story.
The one that has you and me.
The story as always,
Wiped their smiles,
Made them sad.
As always they asked, "why does it not end?"
I smiled the same old smile.
Looked them in the eye and said,
"It's still being written."
They were tired.
Too many emotions, they complained.
They argued for some time and then, fell asleep.
I looked at the moments, scattered around me.
Now sleeping. Got up and walked away.