Only scarecrows crow about the things they
think they know about
while the ragamuffin rooks keeps schtum.
I played in the arcades as the ghost train rolled away
and the one armed bandits clapped their hands on
the pier of my holiday.
these are the nightmares we can’t run from
the fears that we all face
the men of straw that we become and
the memory we erase.
when the crops have gone
and the frost lays on the naked
earth the scarecrow still
© 2017, John Smallshaw.