Living Tree Poetry

A poem for my Dad, Phil, who passed two years after my marriage, in 1998, aged 62 years.

MOVING ON
(Fathers Day 2016)

There are days that I miss you.
Days you feel as close
as a hands-breadth away.
Fleeting moments in my son’s eyes,
when I think I catch your gaze.

A photo on the dresser,
of you holding your own boy,
now sits in the room
of the grandson you never knew.
We carry on.

Life irrevocably moves beyond,
yesterday.

But there are days
I feel you close.
Days I awake,
with the impression of your hand still,
against my hair.

And though I don’t remember
you as a man of many words,
to exchange;
your humour filled the room,
and your presence remains.

Life moves on,
but we are made of yesterday.

And when I look at my son,
and the creative lens,
through which he views the world.
The artwork which captures your own,
I know.

And I know
in my daughter’s open face,
and her teasing eyes.
Softness with an edge,
and toughness that belies her smile.

I know that life moves irrevocably on,
and you are gone.

But for those,
you never knew, who take you with them.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry