Twilight crossed the evening sky,
Was a clear eve,
In early starlight I declare,
Saw shop of puppets appealing,
Almost calling out,
Some kind of lure, they'd called you back,
We had to stop and take a glimpse,

Now this evening,
My heels click clack across the cobbled square,
Desired another view of tragic puppets, looking blue,
From their incarceration of wooden hearts and bitter souls,
I too heard their suppressed weeping,
Sobbing tears despondently,

Looking through the dusty pane,
Visualised a figurehead,
Looked similar to you,
Wooden face stained with scars of tear stains,
Countenance of yours,
After I left you in the bar last night,
What veritable vision you now presented to my sight,

What kind of black magic kept you trapped,
For you were no bad man,
An occasional fool,
For now in the care of marionette curator,
In whose grasp became ensnared,
You were seized in a tragic subterfuge,
As a tragic marionette you dwell forever and a day!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)