She was ninety-two.

Is this the house of mourning ?
Smiles and laughter filter through.
Relations kiss as usual.
Well she WAS ninety two !

Is that some tears by the window ?
Her "baby sister" sheds a few.
Eighty-eight becomes significant,
Well SHE was ninety two !

A gathering of far flung kin,
Old thoughts their hold renew.
Yet no-one mentions darker deeds
Well she WAS ninety two !

And each inspects the other.
Our aging bodies re-view.
"Who's next ?" the smiles ask quietly
SHE wont make ninety-two !