“It’s just symbolic…”
“What’s the symbol of what?”
With this question of hers, I
plunge into deep thought and My
pride hides its tongue.
“It’s a small symbol of my life of faith…”, I
want to answer like this but My
pride refuses to give up.
The arrogance of a scarecrow that
Thinks of itself as just a symbol makes it
able to stand, she would know.
Seeing her warm hands which
put a name tag on my life which
was just a symbol of Me,
my pride furtively settles on a corner and
is watching for a chance.
A scarecrow is just a scarecrow.