The Wooden Man
He followed me where ever I went
This man who's made from wood
I couldn't escape his endless glare
No matter where I stood
It's like he knew my secrets
As he searched my very soul
Even if I tried to hide
He'd follow where ever I'd go
Ten feet tall and clothed in paint
He could not turn his head
But yet his eyes were watching me
And hearing, every word I said
I was only six years old
The first time I noticed him there
His mother must not have taught him
That it's impolite to stare
I wondered how many secrets
This wooden man could know
Perched high upon, his throne of wood
That's called a totem pole
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