Monday, January 22, 2007

Puppets Galore

What are men,
but puppets on a string

Contemplations, every now and then,
Dya hear the hollow ring.

Hours go by, days fly by,
Lost in asking, who am I

A conjured image, a stifled sigh.
Chagrined delusions, a yellow lie.

Do I dare visit my spring ,
In the autumn of my life.

What memories that shalt bring,
How bad could be the strife?

Lost in the whirpools, sands of time,
Innocence lost, a vocal mime.

Just puppets on a string,
That stone in the sling,
By my fingertips... I barely cling ...

No comments: