Insignificance

She died on a dewy Sunday morning
 As the earth indolently sun-bathed
  The butterflies being pulled towards striking hues
   The bright haze dimming everyone with a pleasant dullness
     Life wafting along with a lazy hum
              Leisurely & nonchalant.

She died.
 No one noticed.
  Her memory coalesced with the scattered dust,
     The caressing rays, the falling dew...
       And all things intangible.. effervescent...

She died as the morn rose
  And at the day's close
    Nothing remained of the life she had lived
      Her entry and exit utterly forgettable
        Such was her life's invisibility, such lack of meaning
                        It forces one to wonder...

   If she hadn't lived at all,
          The word 'Death' doth glorify her..
                   For there was no life in her to die...

      No life to beget Death.