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barry-l-j-wintersPoems
The scarecrow, solitary in the field Tatty coat, all astray Looks out over all his land If he could talk, what would he say. Summer,autumn, winter too Wind and rain, clouds of grey He never flinches from his post If he could see, what would he say Children play amoungst the crops Neatly parcelled bales of hay Days grow shorter, crisper, cooler If he could hear, what would he say Invisable tears and a broken heart His lonely vigil every day Timeless days and empty nights If he could walk, would he walk away.
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Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 2:23 AM UTC
THE SCARECROW
The scarecrow, solitary in the field Tatty coat, all astray Looks out over all his land If he could talk, what would he say. Summer,autumn, winter too Wind and rain, clouds of grey He never flinches from his post If he could see, what would he say Children play amoungst the crops Neatly parcelled bales of hay Days grow shorter, crisper, cooler If he could hear, what would he say Invisable tears and a broken heart His lonely vigil every day Timeless days and empty nights If he could walk, would he walk away.
Written by
barry-l-j-winters
English
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 2:23 AM UTC
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