For My Father

We said farewell to my father
On a day of blue sky and sharp sunlight.
In the middle of a week of hard, grey rain
And cold January winds,
That day shone
Like the sudden opening of a bright, clear eye.

He was a man of wry, soldierly humour,
And when we parted on that cold, clean day
There was no raucous lamentation.
The sun etched black, bold shadows
Beneath the sprays of flowers
Blowing bright against the turned, dark soil.

He will be missed by friends and family;
Like most of us, his loss will not be mourned
By movements, states or governments;
He thought no more of them than they of him.
But the space he left, though small, will linger
In the minds of those his quiet journey touched.