Every year I do the same –
The calendar gets marked
With birthdays and important dates
To help my brain get sparked.

I sometimes add occasions
For new friends or someone’s birth,
As sending cards is what I do,
For all that it is worth.

Yet this year there are certain dates,
Where names I’ve always penned,
That will be blank because I’ve lost
A relative and friend.

The August 1st box used to be
Where Marilyn I’d write,
But now she’s buried six feet down,
Which never will feel right.

The need to write Aunt Helen’s name,
November 12th, did end,
For age lay claim and that’s a card
That I’ll no longer send.

That’s just the way it goes, I guess,
But now it’s got me thinking
That every year I should expect
My list to keep on shrinking.