How love saved the sad old scarecrow

I’ve been the guardian of this allotment, All the long, cold winter through, Enduring snow and driving rain, Until my carrot nose went blue. My turnip head feels strangely loose, My scarf shows signs of wear. But my single leg, made of a cherry tree branch, Gives me, I feel, a certain flair. There’s a mouse inside my jacket. Ladybirds lie asleep in my gloves. Black crows, my old adversaries, Squawk in the oak trees high above. But now at last the days seem longer, And the sun feels warmer than before, A solitary bee awakes and buzzes, And new life begins once more. The old gardener arrives, a child in tow, He looks about and sadly shakes his head. ‘We’ve got a lot of hard work to put this right. ‘I’ll fetch our tools out of the shed.’ ‘Grandpa! Look! The scarecrow’s survived. He’s smiling cos we’re here.’ Says Grandpa: ‘Oh, he’s past his sell by date, ‘We’ll make a new one this year. ‘I’ll put him on the bonfire, The straw he’s made of will make it go.’ But the little girl stands resolute. ‘Don’t do it, Grandpa. No!’ The girl says: ‘This scarecrow is my special friend. ‘He’s magic, Grandpa. He makes things grow.’ Grandpa laughs, then has a coughing fit, He wipes his eyes and says: ‘Well I don’t know!’ Working together, they reinstate me. I wear a scarf with a fox and it’s blue. I get a new nose and some dandelions to hold. The child whispers: ‘These are for you.’ Grandpa warns: ‘Now, scarecrow, do your job. ‘Guard our plot from destructive things.’ Yet in his mournful eyes I see only winter, While in her eyes I see the spring. Mrs Anita Bass, Theydon Bois, Essex.