The Puppeteer
Glancing out the window in a mellow interstate
Strings manipulate in nature’s fate
Barely awake lying on my bed
I see the Puppeteer’s story unfold how it’s said
Watching in a post-sleep awe
A glimpse through other world’s door
Stories narration plays as it’s told
The Puppeteer is becoming bold.
Strings pulled by invisible hands
Blowing soul into desert sands
Putting life force in to fingered leaves
Making them dance in Puppeteer’s breeze
For a moment, just for a moment the Puppeteer falls still
I catch my breath in bated thrill
Waiting for the continued romance
For the wind and the leaves to make their dance.
Puppeteer remains hidden from sight
As leaves commence their dancing light
I’m reminded I’m just an audience member
On this beautiful evening of early September
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