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