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  • Writer's pictureMartin Wardley


I buttoned my coat to the cold

As the man of God spoke his words

Words lost to the wind whipping in

Words lost to the incoming rain

As the casket was gracefully lowered

And hers came to rest upon his

Her extensive family as one

Drew earth from the hands of the bearers

Pale roses were equally grasped

And both were cast in her wake

And the sea of black-clad souls

Stood silent in grief and in loss

At that moment I turned around

To face her final expansive vista

To the grand grey body of water

Stirred by the chilling of winter

The hills in the distance bowed heads

And the winter-stripped trees slowly swayed

Briefly woken from slumber enforced

To dance now for her, he and theirs

And for a moment I sat in the room

Open fire, stoked, taking centre stage

With he and her in their places

Both beaming while regaling tales

I braced from the present a while

And for a spell I slipped to the past

And as the cold broke the seal of my coat

I smiled at the thought of such warmth

20th March 2022

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