Another wayside shrine


Death has been busy of late,

Death and his cousin fate.


Some slow down

for respect or morbid stare

curiosity rather than care.

I give a quick glance,

embarrassed, feeling it’s rude

on sorrow’s place to intrude.


There’s supermarket flowers,

cellophane and railings.


I hope a strangers note eases the pain

when read by those in tears

for poor Jane.


What complex confluence of events,

chance happenings, choices made, 

led to this bit of street being where

innocence and death would meet.


The angst ridden ‘ifs’ are voiced,

‘what if’ and ‘if only’,

for self torture of the lonely.


My glance became a stare

on seeing a grubby Teddy Bear.

I quickly drove past.



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