…And the bugler plays his final note

As my cousin holds his mother close to him

Away from the winter chill she bows her head within his suit and coat

Whilst keeping her demeanour proper and trim.

The December wind is driving home the chill of loss

As friends and family gather together to mourn and see

November’s Poppies and Roses come together and apart they toss

Scattered to the four winds and whispering R.I.P.

The stories the minister told of your life,

The passing of a Human being in the celebration of a word

Drew my cousins closer to your ever-loving wife

As Time stood still and blurred,

Memories of laughter, the years in which we were fortunate

To be known by you was something that we would boast

Of a life so affectionate

And with many a tear we say goodbye at the playing of the Last Post…

Ian D. Hall  2014