MONDAY: The Puppeteer


Copyright is held by the author.

I twist, turn
Lurch and plunge
On wooden limbs.
The puppeteer,
Master of the movement
Choreographs my day
On this tiny stage.
Gone — is the grace of youth,
Muscles tensing, turning
While I danced the world.
Now pain is the puppeteer
Frustration and anger
The backdrop to the stage.
I struggle to my feet
My joints stiff
And I travel the miles
Across my room.

  1. PERFECT….!!!

  2. It pains me relate!

  3. It can indeed feel like miles to cross a room.

  4. Well done Katherine. Love it.

  5. I can relate my favorite so far

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