A Letter To My Dad

Poem By Ann Beard

If I could write a letter to my Dad.
I’d ask him, are you watching over me?
Seeing through my eyes the life, I’ve had.
Translating all the worldly sights, I see.

If I could put a question to my Dad
I’d ask him are you always at my side
The centre of my soul is very sad
Starting from the day they said you died.

If I could put my arms around my Dad
I’d ask him how to bare the wrath of men
Who, acting in the name of a religion,
kill without regret and feed on mayhem.

If I could just but walk beside my Dad
I’d ask him, was it hard to leave this earth.
did he shed the cares of loosing all he had
as, thought fell dormant, waiting for rebirth.

If I could just remember my Dad.
One memory, no matter how small
Of a special time of bonding that we had
But I can’t, it’s like he never was at all.


(Roan Jan.2006)

Comments about A Letter To My Dad

Ann-This is so touching. The loss of the memories and or not having time to create those lasting moments, questions that won't be answered, Thank you for this poem.
Verily, a heart touching poem, ........10
This poem touched my soul, thank you for sharing this Ann.....
A lovely poem. I believe our loved ones are permitted to be with us and watch over us sometimes. My own father lived to be 86 but my mother only made it to 44. Thank you for sharing this poem with us.
Thank you Claudia, very nice. Loosing a father is hard at any age you obviously have some lovely memories. regards Ann


Rating Card

5,0 out of 5
13 total ratings

Other poems of BEARD

First Love

“I would like to help”, little more than a whisper,
misty brown eyes turned to stare where I stood.

As I Used To Be.

A sombre day made only for reflection,
every second lasts the longest hour.
My mind a trap for kindest moments
is a garden full of every kind of flower.

A Kiss.

A kiss, becomes a pact between two souls,
penetrating barriers that shy doubt patrols.
for surely not one earthly joy exists,
to bring such utter comfort like a kiss.

A Lady With Cake.

I have been here before so I know the way
It is down the corridor third on the right.
The door is wide open, I pause to observe
the harshness of time her face out of sight.

Between Walls Of Pale Lilac.

Between walls of pale lilac she lay,
her body contracting as if to give birth.
But instead of a child at the end of the day
Her soul fought the ties that bind it to earth.