Sadly, the coffin lowered, ropes,
but after, post some weathered years,
the dust to dust, soon rotting wood,
box metal plate is left to rust.
Inscription, marking out the plate,
the telling note of the last post,
but whether snow might slow the van,
extend your time to finish line?
The mourning card, a first class cause,
or postcard from the sun to Mum,
along with birthday, greeting rhyme -
what better prompt to write your own -
here’s a reason not yet to close
the service, corner of the street.
But post the box, what follows on -
the butler, silver salver gone.