as i look through
this pile of pictures
i can see the face of death.
on the old folks
the obviously decaying
in the yellowed old snaps
and the crisp 1970s magazines.
i can see the look
the shadow of it
in the ill ones
even the young
in every crowd
there is the one.
the face that looks like it will be there soon.
the picture looks like it will be in a memorial.
another scrapbook.
dampened with tears,
summing up
another
lost
one.