The Puppeteer

He pulled out a cigar or two,
And she was left in the cabinet till noon.

For one day's work,lay heavy,
In one man's pocket.

Her arms confined,now entitled with freedom,
Swayed back and forth ,
Like the summer breeze.

She danced yet again,
With music her own,
A marionette with strings,none to pull.

But as the sun roared at the epitome,
It stole away the little freedom bestowed.

Hence she fell with grace,a lifeless grace,
The strings pulled a smile through her face

Picked her up, yet again,
For one more days work,
With yet another,
She was cursed,
And so it would be.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very interesting tale described in the poem. You led the reader to a strong ending. Sometime a cursed life is all we have. Thank you Shweta for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Shweta Sunil]

Thankyou :")

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome my friend.