The littlest things mean a lot is often said
and how true when you are dead and gone
for how long and wide the plot matters
when you are squashed beneath the sod –
Tis not only mourners cried –
pallbearers too with body pains
and aches as they undertake
delivery to your god
and crumble under the weight of it –
So what to do?
PC they are and recognise your need
of a greater place of rest; best interests
served for those demised deemed supersized
and indeed for those who bear the load,
your place, your last abode
will not be far in those green fields,
but near as dammit by the road.
Little things mean the most.
Björn at dVerse has us writing poetic journalism and above is my effort, based on this article that appeared in today’s The Telegraph. Thanks for the inspiration Björn.
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Dennis Turner