The obituary notice of Philip Joseph SYLVESTER

In commemoration of Great Grandpa: Frederick Sylvester, father of Philip Joseph Sylvester. 11/11/2026.

The Memorial Trees

I thought of autumn
when Normandy veterans lowered their flags
and a bugler began to play the Last Post...

and of memorial trees
trooping the seasonal colours
with leaves all emblazed
to celebrate their living victories
before they fall and rest in peace
on waiting ground that root
those treasured memories.

I thought of autumn
and remembered my arm
was tucked tenderly in yours
as you fondly recalled lost comrades
when we walked through the woods...

and of memorial trees
as the late sun's luminous shawls
enshrine them with burning pride
to commemorate their living histories
before they fall and rest in peace
on waiting ground that root
those treasured memories.

I thought of autumn
and remembered you saying
how the mourning trees
were like ageing soldiers
reliving their fading memories...

and of Normandy veterans who raised their flags
to proudly honour your passing - Grandpa -
as a bugler played the Reveille.

Marilyn Sylvester (copyright)

Thinking of you always and especially today. Will meet at the Memorial tree.

ABSENCE

The white covered landscape looks empty,
akin to words left unwritten on a blank page,
after page.

You can still appreciate the arresting hush,
before a thickening snowfall. It heightens the spirit -
brings close the absence of otherness.

It proceeds to blot and distance the familiar tree
that stands alone in a field.

Your eyes drift to the sky pointing evergreens:
heavily endowed with ermine - a majestic embracing.

It is still wondrous to see apparitional flecks descend:
each one a unique star. A short lived DNA
from nowhere, gathering whiteness to whiteness,
until they fade, anonymously.

Marilyn Sylvester (Copyright).