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
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