A Funeral

penguins
on snow
huddled below a brume
that strikes the mood
for greatcoats
and choked throats

straining
worn smiles
some which have travelled
thousands of miles
for one last farewell

amidst
a vague
recognition of blood
thought forgotten
come final arrival of
bloom strewn package
naught but box of memories

after
prim words
from a man who was stranger
and hard fought tears
from one who was closer
a gathering, of sorts,
in a homelier fug where

shared
hollow compacts
offer not to leave it so long
and on a happier footing
but I know we shall wait
for death to gather us anon

raw
amongst the realisation
through silent homeward slide
that with one more
struck from the account
your position moves up
while the spotlight swings around