A slightly bent knee
defines the position
of a curled hand.
Far from disfigured,
the glazed white eyes stare on.
They have seen centuries,
watched life evolve,
without ever viewing.
Fake,
he is all fake.
Wrought by hand.
Born at a time so long lost,
yet never ageing a day,
save for a few wind worn wrinkles.
Grooving the juvenile face.