Puppet
How a word changes meaning,
Just for a person over time.
I never realised ‘puppet’ was that,
The word’s meaning growing with me,
But it always has been, I guess,
Like any cherished thing I hold,
I change how I view it year by year.
When young I dreamt, I dreamed,
And seeing puppets imagined more,
Gave my daydreams voices, life,
In cuddly toys, or small hand puppets.
And then puppets were my creations,
Character’s entirely made up,
Changing for whatever game I chose.
Then there was the group,
And scripts, songs, actions.
Puppets were still exciting,
The most fun thing sometimes,
But they had rules and seemed more real,
Like the Muppets invaded my life,
Until it ended, and I had no puppet for me.
Even then I’d wanted to make one,
And make it just for myself to know.
Puppets were always friends to me,
But the world for a while meant control,
Meant following someone else’s words,
Mimicing myself to their expectations.
My room forever will have puppets now.
I have, somewhere a brought pattern,
Then in a folder, and in my mind,
I have the patterns I’ve actually used,
And my friends are on my shelves.
