He is Dead

Aye but I said.

I knew that man was dead.

Something to do the way he looked.

There was no chance that I mistook.

The expression on his face.

I’m sure he wished that he was in some other place.

But no, he was lying there staring into to space.

A body dead , no grace.

It was sorta funny, in a funny sorta way.

There was I full, optimism ready to play.

And then the tide brought in its cargo.

A shell less Escargot.

No dignity, lying there for all to see.

I guess the soul discarded its body coat, now free.

Who was he, it matters not now.

I moped my soaking brow.

In a panic what to do.

As he lay there staring, missing a shoe.

That was my cue.

I left and never looked back.