A curve of the lips, a crease in the eyes.

A tug to the left, or the right.

A look of approval, or disapproval.

A pull forward or backward. 


A voice that's sharp, or one that's soft,

A lonely dirge, or a tender waltz.

A crossing of arms, or an open embrace,

A fading tune, or a rising melody.


A gentle smile, a frown, a simple look,

Tug my invisible strings,

Every gentle touch or sharp tone,

A new song plays.


I am a single puppet dancer,

Manipulated by a ghostly cord,

And you are my puppet master,

And I dance to your every chord.

This poem is about: 


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