Here's my effort of Magpie 17: It's a bit late but I had it on draft to complete.
Since I was a budding child, you've fascinated me
Ever staring, weather bearing, what will be, will be.
You were hidden in our garden, overgrown with manic sheaves
Concrete waves that framed your face peeked through the ivy leaves.
We picked you up and there you were, a bust in concrete grey
Dusted down and turned around our little girl of clay.
Moved you around the garden, to give you visions new
And shelter when the sky is fierce, all dark and moody blue.
And so our strange new relic, now our guardian of ground
Kept a steady eye on things, no sight and not a sound.
I asked you as I cleaned you if you're shouting or in shock
But the secret soul expression stays solidified in rock.
I've even tried to name you but a title never fits
You'll always be our mystery with grainy little bits
You're the maiden of our garden, in which ever way you choose
In taciturn your endless stare surrounds a tearful druse.
Then one night, so so long ago still sticks with me within
You creeped me out with your silent shout, obscurity wherein:
By the window opened wide, moonlight on sullen grey,
I heard a lull in lilac tones, a singular soiree.
It never did repeat itself, where e'er you graced the ground,
May long you live in silent mode and evermore confound.