Puppeteer

Short Poem

Hands that mold and hands that hold
Dancing circles and you move me.
Across the stage, a wondrous place
Tracing dance steps, your hands soothe me.

Higher Higher into that light
Seeing nothing, feeling bright
Each twirling step feels so right
Moving as the beat


...Drops the curtain
                          .... dims the light.
As wretched darkness takes the night.

Squinting I first see the strings.
Hanging from my every limb.

My head bows my limbs collapse.
My hollow body lies upon its back.

Gazing above I realize my worst fear.

I am your puppet.  You are my puppeteer.