Simon never said.

by John Smallshaw
(London, England)

He walked down to the beach..by the shore
He's been there before..so it's no big deal.
This time though, it's for real.

Starting..he swims away..and swims out some more..
..far from the beach..far from the shore
Until all he can see are the distant lights..
..and the sea.

Then he tires..his thinking is clear..he can still see the lights..
..and the shore is too near.
Farther he goes..to the point of no return
And in turn he eases the pace.
Nearly there..at the place where it ends.
Where life is spent and with no life to keep
He sinks slowly and wearily into the deep.

On the ocean floor he stands..
..shakes hands with sunken mariners
Who serve in the store of the damned and the drowned.

A distant sound..a roar..a shout from the shore..too late.
Simon George Postlethwaite..
..has met the fate that he sought..
..bought a one way, no way anyway but life today ride
Went out on the tide.

And anyway who cared about him?
Who gave a thought to his troubles?

Simon blows bubbles now..he ain't coming back and how..
..will you relate to that?

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