Epitaph IV

Visiting again several weeks later, I quietly and hopefully nudged open the cupboard door, and saw the card again, hung in exactly the same spot, with what looked like the same crumpled piece of tape! Furtively, I whipped it off the door, stuffing it in my pocket. Obeying some strange impulse, Dad had shuffled and rotated this important little notecard right back to where it needed to be. And now, happily, I could take it home to uncover its mysteries.
I looked it up on the Internet, and the third verse netted me a spare website, displaying two full pages of a poem called Terminus, although the site contained little background information. Written out I could see clearly why it held such meaning for him. The few words that Dad had written in his tiny message to me were beautiful, the entire poem even more so. With its images of the sea and a wind-tossed God who rested among the elements of the world, it reflected Dad’s love of all things nautical.