The cortege crawls at a steady snails pace
Along cobbled road
Round shop corner
And by lanes edged against ploughed fields
Leaving a shadow of black velvet.
Old men dally then doff their caps
Not knowing
And yet respectful of the cavalcade
As it ferries a chain to the church gates.
Mourner's young and old stricken by grief
Step from shiny limousines
And walk the narrow path
To heaped soil
Where lies a six feet space
Waiting for a casket to be lowered
To an orchestra of prayer.