the scarecrow

you were hardly seven

amusing me with heaven

with your success in tricking

me with a hilarious scarecrow

that Tina, our pet dog

mistook for a prowler

in our garden of shoe-flower

barking loud with fear

at a scarecrow with shoulders straight

wearing your torn frock for dress

and a curd-pot for head with face

chalked on it, your first artistic creation

henry victor     09.09.2002

she is outgrown

she is, for my love, outgrown

no longer, with my love, can i own

in any case, in my yard i did not seed

her; for certain, she is, a sturdy weed

now i must let her go, her kind

for her to multiply, and my mind

with heart, and soul together bind

and let go my memories all behind

and like a drift-wood me flow forward

making sure, the river bed does not hold

me back tempting with a toddler like hug

until beyond that ocean, surely i, out-log

© henry victor               23.08.2017