After the cremation service the fresh air.
"I never forget a mask,"
I said to someone i'd never met,
an attempt at grim humour.
The embarrassing marquee behind us
pallbearers upright in their black masks,
so long in the waiting.
Truth is I had felt disconnected
but grief can spread like ripples
from a stone cast into water
at the downcast head of one
I knew so well
burdened then bereaved,
at the bravery of reading the eulogy to Patsy his wife
fifty six years wed.