• She gazes at the crowd with weary eyes.
    They pass her by. She’s nothing more than wood
    and manufactured flesh. But they are wrong,
    their senses dulled by years of grit and tears.
    She thinks and dreams. She breathes and feels. She cries
    and laughs. She knows of struggles, bad and good.
    And while she lives she sings her sighing song
    of life and death—a song that no one hears.

    But still she tries to tell her tales to those
    who walk around her home, of all the things
    that she has seen and all the places she
    has been. Alas, her form’s eternal pose
    prevents her body’s aching need to spring
    to life. So there she stays, a frozen sea.