Your face is left forever in the dusk,
A blue portrait that loved the northern light.
You often snapped your fingers at the wind,
And laughed to tell a snow was on the way.
Your courage burned like wildfires in your bones.
It kept you bright when all the world was cold.
The air was always vivid where you stood,
Your arms flung wide to catch the falling sun.
Copyright,2006 Sandra Fowler
Dear sandra, A good poem with a good start! How I wished you had made it somewhat longer! I still think you could and would do it sometime later when your mood is ideal again. It is so wonderful to have good and exemplary parents.We also feel they must be in heaven already. With warm regards, Dr John Celes
This is such a beautiful tribute to your father. What indelible memories he created for you. Thank you for sharing this. Esther
If there every were words that could touch the soul then these would be among them Amazing The hauntingly beautiful, 'Forever In The Dusk' shall leave a real impression on the soul Love Duncan x
i dont quite like the falling sun part. perhaps your life long sweetheart. just my two cent worth
What a beautiful tribute for your father, Sandra. The imagery and the atmosphere are absolutely unique. Thank you for your poetry and the very happy New Year to you. Yelena M.
What a wonderful and loving tribute, Sandra. May we all live with such elan and be remembered with such grace. Best, Don
dear sandra, you are real fine poet as your words tell. should be getting an award for your beautiful poems. would love to read how you tackle poems of other genres, apart from nature. love, john.
'Your courage burned like wildfires in your bones' what an incredible gift of a daughter to a father to produce such a line as this for all who are at home with English to partake of such a verbal feast. That whole last stanza: WOW! You never cease to amaze, delight and educate my soul. Bill Grace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sandra what great thoughts you must hold for your Father, I hardly knew mine he died when I was six years of age, a poem to be cherrised forever beautiful words cheers Sylvie