Proper Followers

Friday, January 25, 2013

High up outside the mountain chalet
the snow falls for long hours every day
I wish I had a real boy to help me
says the puppet-maker tugging at my strings

I wish I was a real boy I reply
but the puppet-maker can't hear me
he takes a chisel and shaves my face
with a soft brush and rouge he paints my lips

If you could walk you'd be a real boy
he stands me up like a new born donkey
he closes my eyes and makes a wish
I can talk listen to me I can walk look at me