Not only could I not be there,
in those few precious moments before your departure,
but I could not prevent it.
This trend--this devastation--
this atrocity known as Death
has its way of sneaking behind me
and blinds me. Binds me.
Leaves me crippled on the floor
lying, looking at the buried beds.
And circular flower gardens
like they can cover decay with decor.
Death's not impressed; it is satisfied
with surprising its victims and bystanders.
Those flowers, too, shall fall.