Dummy

In the shop window stands a dummy, pale and still,
A wooden smile frozen against the chill.
Its porcelain eyes stare out at hurried feet,
While rain‑slick streets reflect a muted beat.

Children point and giggle, calling it “silly”,
A jesting whisper, light and willy‑nilly.
Yet behind the glass, a quiet tale unfolds—
Of mannequins that dream in silent moulds.

The dummy sighs in fabric seams,
A hollow heart that softly dreams.
Not foolish, not a fool, but made to hold
The fashions of a world that turns to gold.

So let us see beyond the painted grin,
The dummy’s pose, a mirror, thin.
In every stiff, unmoving line,
Lies a story waiting, shyly, to entwine.