29 August 2012
Through shuffled queue, and muffled mourn, friends straddle path in rhyme'd forlorn. Shaking cold hands with nodded grief, gestures draped with floral'd wreath
Slow drawn carriage, unbridled and black, through family and friends in morbid dispatch. Ticket to travel in one way'd destiny, conductor had punched with rehearsed empathy.
Hand in hand of 'slabhra beo', unrequited delve with unrepented flaw. Framed of wood and beveled in silk, dyed in soak of a dark virgin's milk.
The last bus revs, daring to move, purring in rhythm to an ethereal groove. the passenger's dance to a reflective nocturne while the queue shuffles slow awaiting it's return.
* slabhra beo - Irish for 'human chain'
The Last Bus • Opuss № I