Dreaming of My Father

4

Fortieth Day Dream

On the fortieth day

I dreamed

the  LeConte

was boarding passengers

before dawn.

Standing by the purser’s shack

I watched each dim form

present their ticket

and shuffle across the gangway.  

In that murmuring crowd

I listened for your voice

but it was raining,

(of course),

and I couldn’t hear you.

When at first light the ferry

began to pull away from the pier,

there you were, standing at the railing

waving to me.

a long, slow, steady wave of farewell. 

You smiled,

it was a tender, wistful smile,

as if fondly remembering what

 even the waters of the river Lethe

could not entirely erase.

As the boat picked up speed

I watched you

and waved goodbye

until the ferry rounded Coghlan Island

and disappeared.

The fortieth day since my Dad's death on January 24th was March 4th.