The Shelf of Sadness

I was going to write a sad poem But my nephew shot himself So I'll guess I'll wait 'til later And I put it on the shelf I finally took it down today But before I started to write I got a call from a friend of mine His daughter died last night So on the shelf it went once more To wait 'til grief has passed Again I took the paper down To write my sorrow at last But as my muse began to cry A knock came at my door A neighbor came to me in tears Her husband killed in the war I never wrote that sad poem It sits upon the shelf Sadness needs no poet at all It somehow writes itself