by Geoff Weed

Created on: April 17, 2008

"Mannequins"

Unabridged, the thoughts of our lives come and tumble
down through our minds
disturbing the simplicity we try to hold.
Looking out at a scene across the
snow-filled square,
of people hazy like through gauze
because of the falling snow,
and seeming to freeze in all of their places
and in the traces of their steps
and paths.

Frozen in the bitter cold,
an extended arm, an uncovered fingertip,
unfeeling, almost non-existent.

And this will never end,
this feeling,
this morose sense of displacement
and sadness at the perceived sorrows
of the world and of us all.

This will never end because it's frozen
like the crowd in the snow,
like the mannequin crowd that stands in the square
and looks with glassy eyes at the
snowflakes that hang perpetually in the morning
sunlight.

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