/ They sit in planned rows, the homes
With nothing to mark them as so
Except the numbers and the names
The occasional photo
/ And slowly fading souvenirs,
Unopened envelopes, there
A jar of wilting flowers here.
Perhaps a teddy bear
/ Left behind by those who cared.
The missing lives are charted
In these few objects, these few words:
'Here lies ... dearly departed.'