On the Day of the Loss

She stood by the doorway,
A little bewildered,
There were too many visitors,
Walking in and out,
Of one room or the other,
All making it seem as if,
This was what they were here for,
Quite purposelessly,
It clearly wasn’t an ordinary day.

And yet so purposeful,
Just sitting around,
Aren’t these the,
Happy people,
Who were always,
So pleased to see her,
Ready with a hug and a kiss,
Why do they look away,
Today clearly wasn’t an ordinary day.

“Will they be bringing him here?”
Someone whispered,
An ordinary query,
But it just stayed suspended,
Seemingly for ever,
No one was willing to pick it up,
Or deal with it in any known way,
Today clearly wasn’t an ordinary day.

The room was cleared,
Bereft of furniture,
The marks against the walls,
Looked forlorn as if,
They were the intruders,
The fan whirred at a desolate pace,
The street vendors seemed to,
Shout at a softer pitch,
Today clearly wasn’t an ordinary day.

She walked into the kitchen,
A glass of milk appeared,
Like any other day,
She balanced the glass,
And gulped its contents,
If she drinks it without spilling,
Maybe everything will be ok,
Grandma was there. Strange,
Gave her a death squeeze hug,
Today clearly wasn’t an ordinary day.

She saw grandpa in the verandah,
Shuffling the newspaper,
She nudged close to him,
She pushed away the paper,
With the corner of her foot,
He pulled her up into his lap,
There would be no walk today,
Maybe this was the start of,
Some other kind of everyday.