Not Waving but Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Steve Smith

I've always loved this poem. It reminds me that we never really know how others are feeling, even if they appear super-confident. I saw this child's painting at New Pitsligo Visual Arts today. The show was superb, lots of local talent and community input. They had a special show of Steve's photos and my friend Charlie won a prize - a good day all in!