A year has passed
And still my father’s sweetness lingers on
Within my memory.

No sun
Has set upon his face,
No thought forgotten
While I trace
The images and pictures
Through my mind.

But through this quiet pain
I feel
Love never will conceal
Him
From me.

No peevish winter wind shall chill
No sullen tropic sun shall wither
The roses in the rose garden
Which is ours and ours only*

And forever.

Bruce Cooper 1997

*TS Eliot