A Death Never Mourned

On the outskirts of a long-abandoned country town beyond the crumbling headstones and elmwood trees is mounted a dark dismal figure of what used to be a scarecrow whose limbs flail in Autumn's breeze Hung as if crucified, his death was never mourned The creature decayed in the midst of a barren field Fallow lies the ground he once so boldly protected Nigh on twenty years since wheat crops gave yield Poor beast, with innards of grayed moss and twigs Tenebrous, the moldy growth on his stygian face as fog encroaches to shield me in the shadows of night He's a monolith of death, staked in this cursed place Darkness saturates the clouds and shrouds the moon Comes the North wind, and a caw... caw... cawing sound A murder of crows take flight over the wretched scene Where once reigned a Sovreign who was never crowned