Poetry Friday

This poem came to mind yesterday when I was doing a training swim at Alum Creek Reservoir. Tomorrow is my second-ever 1.5K time trial open water swim. It will certainly not be too cold, I don't plan to die, and I'm only occasionally too far out (in my life or otherwise).

Not Waving But Drowning
by Stevie Smith

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.