the dance of the effigy

flailing,
the wicker-visaged scarecrow
is once again used as a bon voyage
for emotions gone cascading towards extinction

it's hollow veins and dry shell course
with parallel memories that never made sense

it doesn't speak nor give any indication
that it is even viable....
but look closely,
closer
close as you dare

that's not dew on it's straw cheeks,
that my friends is moisture
condensed from a heart
battle-wrung with the
vigorous denials of life,
the whys and wherefors
simply dust in it's mouth

the drizzle, so necessary for speach
never makes it home
before the dessication hits

no words can be spoken
for the arid atmosphere
is not conducive to affection

feel sorrow for this flapping effigy,
it is misunderstood and ignored
by those beings made of earthly flesh

but you know......
this lonely beacon
would petition for feelings too
if all weren't so greedy with their hearth
and foes