Retinue of reluctant
few arrived at start
of rain.
And their respect stuck
in their throats as they
approached the crypt.
Consignment left
beyond the deft did
rightly deft comply.
With rings of things
unsung yet rung
without bereft of style.
Who though confused
did not refuse to light
sombre bomb by fuse.
That set off soon wry
concoction fugue
a noisy one-off try.
And weary tone deaf
choir decided now’s
not the time to cry,
while anthems peeled
out reticent bell in
hopes their recent
rings foretell in honest
tones the rattled bones
and rancid incense
smell.
