Did death take so many

That the crowded headstones

Vied for space and leaned

And stood in awkward silence?

Do I see an empty space

Across the aisle in the pew?

At the Thanksgiving table,

The numbers have certainly dwindled.

Fewer Christmas cards arrive

And I did not notice!

I shop less and

On the tree skirt,

The pile has diminished.

There are no guests

And the table is not laden

The food has lost its flavor

And the kitchen has turned cold.

The once riotous garden

Is in disarray today.

No constant gardener

To poke and pry and

To warn the plants and flowers

To be be on the lookout

For the expectations!

Weeds encroached in abandon

For the Reaper gathered the custodian.

Unabashed, the wilted leaves drooped

For want of care and love

Of the one who paid them homage.

Death had already crossed my threshold!