In A Cranleigh Cottage Bedroom
by Raymond Holt
An ex Cranleigh village Bobby
Gave his old clothes to Oxfam,
Loose change to the blind.
Never broke the ten commandments,
On Sunday prayed for mankind.
Never left or right of centre,
To make his point, would never crawl.
Always spoke of others kindly,
Or kept quiet, said nothing at all.
Filled his heart with warm wishes,
Helped others as and when.
Never complained about his failings,
To so many a wonderful friend.
So benevolent. Oh so benevolent,
A man to truly trust.
Stood out amongst all others,
In life’s nasty sticky crust.
Now in his tiny cottage bedroom,
When light through curtain fades.
His friends and family gather,
To watch him gently slip away.
As nurse pinches out the candle,
And gently closes his eyes.
Pulls a sheet up over his head,
Her sadness aching inside.
I stood in the peaceful graveyard,
When they lowered him into the ground.
A lone swan flew over his coffin,
Disappearing in mist all around.
I’m sure as the swan flew over,
It cried and gave me a wink.
The swan knew how I was feeling,
And so did God. Don’t you think?
LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER
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