Marionette

A little Soul that loves me As I love her. I made her so. Our solitude, like snow. That silencer of trees - whose Leaves of thought fall softly. Though born of trees, she never falls For I control her every move. And she will never fail me - For frailty is flesh and blood And Love that’s won. Not made. This little maid of paint and wood Will never age. Nor die, diseased - and weary. New Puppeteer! - New Life! Her strings can be repaired. Her eyes - re-stared. My fingers lose their grip on her As she outlives My Life. My Love. And so - I Gift this World this pretty Soul Who stole my heart And steals the Show.