by Luis G. Dato
Relentlessly they’re falling, one by one,
Like dead leaves parted from the tree of life —
The father and grandfather, husband, wife,
Brother and uncle, nephew, here and yon.
The sunny day that seemed so long is done,
So cheerful, with bright expectations rife,
And every time, the heart as with a knife
Is pierced with loneliness to find them gone,
And fear, for like them, shall we come to grief
One day, so obviously a common fate
With each and all implacably we share,
And Time will turn us to a yellow leaf,
The tragic heritage which we must bear,
With death the rendezvous without a date.