After Service Buffet

Some gorged on finger foods placed there a few hours before.
Cling filmed wrapped on the once packed family table.
How many candles blown, how many turkeys trimmed?
A C.D of soulful classics plays in the background
Gently ebbing the day onwards, silence still too raw.
Some get pissed, death of a loved one. One not seen
For eight years, a good enough reason to numb the
Pain of an indifferent wife, or an unfulfilling job.

The curtains are drawn, keep it private and low key
He was never one for chatting, he raised the garden
Fence to keep the neighbour at bay.
The widow walks with the weight of the day.
Accepting condolences as though they were apologies
What to be sorry for? It wasn’t your fetish for Asian girls
That gave him cancer. The grieved ones grandchildren
Frolic in the garden, on hearing of his death, they

Cried then resumed their gaze upon the cartoons.
His children each with their partners smile fondly
They’ve still got the long drive home. And so when all is
Done, when the leftovers of once life lay scattered
Upon the table, picked on, chewed on,
Gulped and drained, there is nothing left to do
But wash and clear away the day.