We are gathered here today

to mourn the passing of yet another fallen hero

selfishly abandoned on Britain’s streets.

The carcass of the picked open raven coloured cover

that provides, at best mediocre shelter, but to whom so many

of us gathered round the pavement of our beloved city,

a natural habitat and environment for it to flourish

and thrive in,

are thankful to be seen with, to use as a weapon

as we hold it far too low and are able to pluck the eyes

out of our gentle soaking wet neighbour as they look enviously on,

forgetting that an umbrella is not just for a wet, wild and windy day

but it is for discarding with flippant annoyance and curses

all round on the street, a few paces from the upright

coffin only partially full with chip wrappers and the smouldering taste

of casually stubbed cigarettes .

 

Thank you dear umbrella for reminding us this day,

as we mourn your broken form, your twisted inside

out carcass, the heart dead but the thought of your potential dashed,

that what happens to you, perhaps cheaply made, no forethought

for any longevity and a blight on the horizon,

that we too, in your eyes are mourned with the same sense of rambling

sincerity as we abandon ourselves, just as cheaply made,

just as ridiculed, our longevity thrown out

with the every decreasing moment…we are but the umbrella

of the non material world…

Let us Pray…

 

Ian D. Hall 2015