It is not pretentious to write about death

Death is in everything, it is in this cup

It is as common as a cauliflower.

Is it pretentious to write about a cauliflower?

I miss my mother and my brother

There have been no funerals

But they are sadly gone

Though people with the same names walk about the house and do the washing up, talk about the gardening and the bow and arrow they just made

These new ones are nice, and fun

But I resent them, for not being the mother and brother I knew

For dying so quietly, without telling me

In came sadness through the back door, and flooded

I miss my mother and brother