Too Close to Home Now

Too Close to Home

More days than not, when we chat
Over a flavored coffee
Or steaming cup of black joe,
On the couch, or at the table,
One of us asks: "Did you know
So and so died yesterday?"

Never, over a cup tea
With some honey or a splash
Of cashew milk or creamer
Does such talk seem to happen.
I know, we rarely drink tea,
But maybe we should go green.

It does happen while we dine
Or settle down later on
To watch murder and mayhem
On TV; another statement
Of the finality of life-
A name of who passed today.

We rarely ask each other
Who that person was. We know
All the newsworthy names now.
We grew up with those singers,
Activists, actors, thinkers,
Schmoozers, and politicians.

I can deal with eighty nines,
Ninety fives, and hundred eights.
But as these icons pass on–
Regular folks, too, like us–
The sixty ones, twos, and fours,
Hit much too close to home now.

Time is fleeting, that we know,
As you keep joking with me:
"If I have twenty years left,
Do I really care to be
Aggravated?" No, you say,
You'll surely enjoy this day.

As leaves drift to the ground
This fall day, and darkness creeps
Creeps in as the sun sets,
I think about twilight's glow,
Decades we may yet see.
Dawn's arrival's a blessing –
More so with tea.

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