Remembering

[nacona]

Remembering

Father, I look over
and you are next to me
with your fishing rod clasped
tightly in your hands,
and I trace the transparent line
to where it vanishes
beneath the tree reflected surface.

Hunched over the edge
of your boat, I watch
as the river tide slaps
the side and my reflection
wavers. My face, the trees,
and the cloud-choked
Florida sky ripples
into a Monet reproduction.

The fragrant sea floats
on the breeze, and a Pelican
flies by ocean ward
as if in answer to its call.
I can taste the lemon
iced tea you always bring
in a big silver thermos, and smell
the Doral Cigarettes
that constantly clings to your clothes
as I sit back and close my eyes.

The universe snaps shut into darkness,
and when my eye-lid curtains lift
I am left alone on my back porch
remembering that memory
in a world where you no longer dwell.

11/24/2006
Charlotte, NC
1st Draft
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*I am not sure about this title, I feel that it takes away from the end of the poem. It is a working title so I am open to any suggestions.

[Angeleyes]

nacona,

This is a beautiful memory of a father and son. I can see him standing there with his fishing rod, eyes squinting, because of the bright sun. Reeling it in and then throwing it back out. I can even feel the boat rocking to and fro, caused by the tides ripple. Isn't it funny how a scent (such as Doral cigarettes), and even a song can bring back memories. Nice write. But your writes always are...

[Debbie]

Great tribute Nacona...love the imagery's...well penned..

[christina]

Very vivid and a creative flow to enhance the
world of your tribute.
Christina