• That statue is staring. Who is– he’s –?
    His hat hangs with ice and snow.
    Following eyes like portraits tease.
    If he could walk, where would he go?

    I trudge on through winter’s glow,
    Cutting wind and stinging breeze.
    That statue’s gaze makes me slow,
    That statue is staring. Who is– he’s–?

    Others walk past me in threes.
    The soldier’s statue stands as though,
    To leave and travel south apiece.
    His hat hangs with ice and snow.

    I walk forward, through streetlight’s glow,
    Wishing myself home, into good heat.
    He watches me through blows of snow
    Following eyes like portraits tease.

    I go close and hear the crunching of ice beneath my feet.
    Did he just breathe steam, I thought I saw but no
    He’s stuck to his dais, caked with sleet.
    If he could walk, where would he go?

    His gaze is more intense now, though.
    Nervous I walk quicker past with the stabbing breeze
    To be past the eyes and their swallowing glow, those
    Following eyes like portraits tease.
    That statue is staring.