dusk arising

the cunning puppet

 

 

sometimes I wear sorrow
as a glove puppet
contorting shapes
to surf through
it\'s reign of tears
who finds an overwhelmed
weeping audience
of me
struggling
over that one word
to colour a picture perfect
though yet just beyond reach
to gift your mind
of such thought in verse
for here ego\'s delight
knows always
my cunning finds it\'s pleasure
rested in the giving