As people grow old, their friends and acquaintances begin more and more rapidly disappearing, one by one — leaving this life.
Last night I dreamed I was talking with some elderly ladies in a sort of “do-it-yourself” retirement home. They mentioned someone who was gone, and I said to them,
You go someplace
And you knock on the door,
And the person who was there
Isn’t there anymore.
Just then I began waking up, and realized it rhymed, and formed a kind of simple poem that summarized the common experience of those in their later years.