The Antique Shop Keeper’s Parrot and the Stuffed Mice

 

What were their names, those three I see?
Or did they never warrant any
Verbal binding to
This earth?

Alas, I ask in vain, for some learn’ed
Tradesman has their innards long
Removed,
Replacing them with sawdust and sweet
Lavender,
For smells would never do.

I ask the man who owns me
How they came
To be there,
But a shrug and mumbled answer
Are the only words that come my way.

I reach up and smooth the
Soft brown Coat of
He who has been placed beside me,
Feel the sawdust shift minutely
Beneath my
Stroking.

“How does it feel to be Eternal?”
I ask, but his blank,
Glassy stare
Reveals nothing of
The secrets
That I know he must
Posses.

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© Fionyac