Every Year Some Of My High-School Classmates Die Poem by Shalom Freedman

EVERY YEAR SOME OF MY HIGH-SCHOOL CLASSMATES DIE

Every year some of my high-school classmates die
Each year one or two more than in the previous
Somewhere along the way in the coming years
My name will appear on the list
A few may wince and regret for an instant
As I have been wincing and regretting now
How sad it all is
How strange it all is
We were all young once
We did not know we would come to this
So much promise so much hope so many dreams
Year by year
Until there will be the end of us
How sad and painful life is
As we grow older
And are not.