There is a Flood
the things that stick with me are the images
of elderly ladies in dinghies
being pulled to safety by volunteers
up to their knees; the man who goes back
for his neighbours' dog because he was there
when they brought her home as a puppy
and can't bear the thought of leaving her
swimming until her legs give way.
Like the time you turned up one night
just to make me smile. Even though
you'd had to walk in the rain and you
could have stayed in and kept dry.
You said it was nothing, that we are all
just keeping our heads above water.
If you have any comments on this poem, Claire Walker would
be pleased to hear from you.