The Puppet Girl

The puppet girl lay broken
In a corner of the room
Her puppet face, it’s painted smile
Did not betray her gloom

But despite her rosy cheeks
And pretty colored dress
A silent tear escaped
As her wooden heart digress

She reminisced about a time
When effortless it seemed
To hear a beat and have it flow
Through her entire being

In the days before strings frayed
She never stopped to ponder
On what was up above her head
To stop her going under

So effortless her movements were
She took the flow for granted
Lamenting only once she broke
The loss of her enchantment

And to this day she might still lay
Succumbing to a slow decay
But that would be another end
And this would be another play

Because this little puppet girl
Would not accept that fate
She gathered up her tangled limbs
And swore to dance another day

She tore the tattered strings away
And as her vigor grew
She found that she was humming
To a distant thrumming tune

The melody familiar
Had it been there all the time?
How could it be she’d failed to see
A substance so sublime

And finally she realized
What had been all along
It was not the strings that held her
It had always been the song