Bastard

It was a rainy cold winter’s day The black polished hearse drove by us on its way There was a long line of cars behind But the thing that stood out was not so kind You could see the flowers on the coffin clear Written with the words not so dear ‘Bastard’ was so clearly spelt Which made made think about what was felt About the deceased lying sleeping now Did they lack the know how That was needed for a life well led So that this was the only sentiment for the dead. © Paul Warren Poetry