Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Dreaming of My Father


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.      

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