The weather drove in from the North
under an expanse of slate grey clouds
with a long, forgotten, Latin name
to provide a bleak backdrop
to the portly, whispering vicar
whose contemporary trimmed cassock
did nothing to brighten his turgid verse,
pricked with anecdote,
no doubt countless times cut and paste.
I soon closed my ears
to the proprietary brand of
“Funerals for Vicars: Standard Edition”
and thought only of the “Use by” date
on the hastily shop bought buffet
before pondering my own, unknown,
“Best Before End”.
© D. Archer. August 2013
beautiful writing written
Thank you. High praise indeed from such an eloquent wordsmith as yourself. Dave.
mutual namaste