Another light has left the hall,
A voice now silent in the call.
Gone too soon, it seems to be—
A friend, a name, a memory.
She was just sixty-nine, you say,
Too young, too soon to slip away.
Our generation, thinning fast,
Like leaves that fall before the last.
We count the years, we mark the names,
As time moves on with quiet claims.
And wonder why the ones we knew
Now walk ahead, beyond our view.
Yet let us hold what once was shared—
The laughter, moments when we cared.
Though sorrow lingers in the air,
Love remains, still everywhere.
So may your heart find space to grieve,
And also joy, for what we weave
In life's brief thread, we still retain—
In memory’s light, they live again.
Reader 2025
From conversation