There in the distance, a convoy of cars
Led by a black one, long and highly polished;
The one behind similarly clad.
And there walking on the path
A man of many years;
Walking upright in a suit, slightly tattered,
But worn with pride.
As the first car of the cortege passed
This man stopped, turned to face the hearse,
And bowed his head in respect,
To a person he had never known.
The funeral procession passed,
And the man continued on his way;
A respectful man.