Death Knocks

Death is a distant relative.
Often forgotten until he stands at your door.
Sometimes he intrudes without warning.
Others, he patiently waits for you to complete life's chore.

We don masks to host a party for which the guest of honor is absent-
View a cold body, plastered with make up.
We say how nice they look but swollen eyes testify against this lie,
there is nothing sweet in this cup.

Never again will life's song be sung by those lips.
Everyone has a comforting message, spoken in vain.
A thousand memories stinging like angry wasps,
In a brush fire of loss, this seems a feeble rain.