FUNERAL (Poem)

 


They were all in sepia,
 Mountains, roads, causeways and bridges, 
In a pile beneath the dusty carpet,
 Left behind for me, 
They lay calling out in muffled voice. 
A motley crowd, 
not all in black had assembled, 
An unassuming casket and a sprig of lavender,
 From the mailman to the mayor all had come, 
A family had born where strangers were, 
A sombre tone had settled there, 
The train’s on time and the office is still at nine, 
Phones ring and buzzers pressed, 
The click of heels never cease, 
But for now, 
let’s pause, 
Be silent and mourn.

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