Sheri's Thanatopsis

Something I wrote when she passed. Di thought it should be shared for anyone and everyone who has suffered a loss -- thyat would be alomst all of us. It feels important somehow. Here goes:

Death slid into the room
like smoke billowing inward
through the open screen door.
He knew his victim, if victim she was;
she had danced with him for years,
had bedded him, sung him arias
filled with pain and longing,
and in return he had promised
to come back when she was ready,
and gently so.
The room was filled with sound,
our laughter, our tears, our lives
freely given freely shared,
so many cut flowers in a shrinking vase,
but she no longer followed us
and Death only smiled at our
sentimentality and sense of loss.
And all the while I wondered whom
next he would invite to dance.