Old uncles have their black pants on
That’s when I realise that I am one
Old to the front, young to the rear
There’s an order of expiry here
No tears are flowing, it was expected
Hanging on so long had made all dejected
Eulogies in memoriam were told
As I pondered what it means to be old
The smoke rose as rain began to fall
The chanting ceased and that ended it all
Black pants returned to wardrobes then
Until next time the family gathers again
