Father

Always I see you in the morning sun

Then too I glimpse you when the day is done

Autumn leaves are a fiery pyre

You are the dawn splendour, you won’t die here

 

You are the wind whispering through the trees

You are the nesting sparrows in the eaves

You are the vibrant garden of flowers

You are the grace in my needy hours

 

When the spring buds hope on a given day

You are the fragrant promise  that  will stay

You the invisible waltz dancing free

You are all I am and will ever be

 

Reviews

[FrancescaX]

beautiful poem. lovely description of what a good father is like.

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

You are all I am and will ever be............lovely verse Moon.

[Brianna Brie]

Beautiful poem! Love your carefree thoughts on the father. Nice rhyme, too.

[afra]

awesome write ...well done

[G!o]

Wow this is a sweet and creatively drafted thought brought out perfectly. There are so much sparks in this piece and i am sure that the dad had a very huge smile on his face when he read this.

[An owl on the moon]

Such tender, precious insights from a heart filled with love and aching... Your words are beautifully moving, and speak truly of both holding on and letting go.

[Heromen Selena]

Nicely done with the descriptions. The colors are nice. In the beginning stanza it seems disconnected. From one thing instantly to the next. You might want to flow it a little more. Other than that it's good.

[Alexandria Reece]

This is such a sweet and well-drawn out sentiment. Your words speak of belonging (as the nesting sparrows) and great freedom (as the wind and expression of dance). Everything is natural and beautiful here, your words are delightful and warm on the lips while read.

'Autumn leaves are a fiery pyre'
^ favourite line, thanks for sharing this piece with the community Moon!

[Dr. Wood ?]

This is simply lovely.....I think of my Dad every day.....there are certain bonds that will NEVER break

[FJ Davis]

As lovely a tribute (and more) as I've ever read.
Your father must have been exceptional, Moon; this poem certainly is.