A cravat my father wore De-cantered from his father’s core
Amber liquid and tough smoke from pipes of oak Did splash upon my mind’s floor
Signs of antiquity, but not of age Left upon life’s centre stage
“Take life steady” He once said Words carved from his ancient head
The day three of them came I knew life would never be the same
I should have seen him more To hear stories of that old war
Now, I hang his painting’s high Those made with an artists’ eye
Every season in a frame The more I look I understand my name
By Samuel Fawcett (a proud grandson)
This poem is dedicated to my grandfather, who represented such good and happiness in my life and of whom I had the great benefit of knowing in my youth. He was a controlled man, a survivor and he never acted rashly. He fought for his country against oppression and hatred. The words he wrote to me in birthday and Christmas cards echoed a love for our family; to carry our name forward. I shall never forget the stories he recounted to me and his love which I shall never forget.
Parisian Poetry 