their turn

they go away,
these young children,
nieces and nephews.
off to their own
lives. grown,
the photos stopped.
remembering what, if
anything,
from
holiday gatherings, the screaming
brood,
happy and unhappy,
a chorus
of shrill voices,
the television on, dogs barking.
the dining room table
cluttered with food.
they're gone now,
the children,
those days.
the parents unglued from
life,
the aunts and uncles
now grey, taking over,
it's their turn.