An old man sits on a churchyard bench
with his memories of times long ago.
When he was the Vicar of the church
and the people he’d come to know.

He recalls when he married a couple
on an almost perfect summer’s day.
And how with joy in their young faces
they knelt there before him to pray.

He remembers when he christened twins
who cried the whole ceremony through.
Their mother tried to keep them quiet
but there was nothing she could do.

The church would be full at Christmas
with people standing near the door.
He wondered why they all came
but then didn’t come any more.

And he still remembers the burial
of a young man who died in a car.
Taking his dangerous love of speed
so tragically, a little bit too far.

Near where he sits’ there’s a young boy
kneeling by his Grandmother’s grave.
It’s nearly dark , under a cold wintry sky,
and he’s not really feeling very brave.

The young boy stands with the old man
saying “Grandpa it’s time for us to go ”.
They walk off hand in hand together
on a path now sprinkled with snow.

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