As she appeared, on the stage, she gave a bow in modest. Her hands were limp, her knees were bent, she almost looked ragged. She then began, with a smile on her face, to carry out her performance. (a smile which never left, we all felt it couldn’t.)
She danced in the pretty dress that she wore, and it swirled round and round, never touching the ground for sure. She then waved her arms over her head, and rose above the floor – which then led to her biggest move, dropping her down, like a ballerina in a frown.
But her head popped back up, looking at us, with the same smile on her face. She picked up pace and danced her other moves, with even more grace. Tough every now and then she wibbled and wobbled. She seemed to catch up, trying not to waddle.Then it ended, all so suddenly, as a severed string came in view.
a thread? a rope? we saw it then. Attached to her every part of her; hands, feet head and all.
When we looked up, the fingers gave it all.
I had absolutely no time today to be a good student and do the poem earlier (and better – It just rhymes too much – When I read the topic, I had so many ideas but my evil laptop died on me) ;_;
Well, now here I am, with something right out of my head. Its about a puppeteer 😀
Well, nothing really about the puppeteer (except the last part if this poem was understood :S), just an indirect poem on how he/she controlled the puppet with their fingers (the moves of the puppet in effort to show how the puppeteer controls it with – lets make it a “her” – Her fingers 🙂
Thank you for reading! 😀