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The Who, that never sleeps

Wating foreverlong
with centurys old straw for guts,
and unnaturally deep poked holes for eyes,
He stares straight into my window.
Sun,rain, hail or snow
He never moves.
He never speaks.
He is a barely a speck on the horizon.
But I know hes there.
And everyday I look out the window,
that speck seems to grow a little larger.
I talk in the present for
even though I now I live so far away,
I still feel that same speck on the horizon,
moving closer
Inch by inch
day by day.
And everytime, with dead face grinning,
As his still lips whisper:
       "We're all alone in the field tonight,
               And the night is growing long, long, long"
the feint sound of laugher tickles my spine...

22 Jun 07

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is this about a scarecrow? the poem's solid but I'm unsure as to who was staring....but perhaps that's the idea. thanks.
 — Trish77

In L22 is "feint" intended, or did you mean "faint"?  It makes for an interesting double meaning if it was intentional.
 — skinnyJon