For Absent Friends

Sunday at six when they close both the gates

A widowed pair still sitting there

Wonder if they're late for church

And it's cold, so they fasten their coats

And cross the grass, they're always last

Passing by the padlocked swings

The roundabout still turning

Ahead they see a small girl

Pulling away home with a pram

Inside the archway the priest greets them

With a courteous nod, he's close to God

Looking back at days of four'stead of two

Years seem so few, heads bent in prayer

For friends not there

Leaving tuppence on the plate

They hurry down the path

Through the gate and wait

To board the bus that ambles down the street

Inside the archway the priest greets them

With a courteous nod, he's close to God

Looking back at days of four'stead of two

Years seem so few, heads bent in prayer

For friends not there

Leaving tuppence on the plate

They hurry down the path

Through the gate and wait

To board the bus that ambles down the street