The Art of Puppetry

I keep forgetting that with time comes distance,
And an aging heart only begs for things that are new, instead of repairing the old.
And when the sun comes up so does everyone else, like puppets with wire strings, waiting for their morning coffee; Habits not meant to be broken.
I’m getting older. The ocean’s tide keeps pulling at my spine from hundreds of miles away, and as much as I resist, I can’t stop it’s constant murderous tug. 
I’ve always liked swimming, but right now it just seems repetitive.
Kind of like my conversations with everyone. 
I think we out grow each other; us humans…
Like trees being uprooted from the dirt. It just happens. 
I don’t want it to be like this. 
But I’ve never really had a voice when it comes to certain situations.
So I’ll just sit in my bed and wait for the waters edge to knock on my window,
While everyone else finds soul mates for the spring and continues their packing to leave for somewhere less cold. 
Somewhere happy.
Somewhere I can’t seem to reach.

Reviews

[gsbito]

I like your style of pouring out what is deep inside. Nice one Amber.