I wrote this poem a couple of years ago, after the death of one of our neighbors we knew when we lived in our previous house. She was quite young. I think of her this time of year because she took such pride and interest in her garden and her house, and now in the middle of summer is when flowers and trees and bushes all are blooming and full.
My Former Neighbor
The cancer caught sight of her,
weighed its chances
liked what it saw
toyed with her for quite a while
tired of the game all at once and took her.
The end. Now she’s just bones in the cemetery.
Spend a minute
with the obituary page
is not new and surprising.
except, it is,
You’ve heard it before
and before that
and it still hurts,