it is difficult to negotiate
the crowd from the funeral
to drive down the lane,
home.

it is difficult to hold that feeling,
the tearing throat
driving home.

it has been years.   now at last
we clear the furthest corner
to make way for new plants.

cut the rubbish piece by piece,
stacking, packing it

ready for the rubbish
collection.

it says three score years and ten.

some are lucky, you were lucky.

sbm.