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He is the puppet master!
Master of all!
Puller of strings
and hinged things.
Cunning small birds on fine wires.
Monsters and silk fabric fires.
The children adore him
and sit at his feet
As he spins puppet tales
of far-away lands.
Schoolgirls cast eyes at him.
Schoolboys despise him.
(Envious, perhaps of his freedoms.)
But wait!
Out of date!
A license no good for this show.
The Empire pulls strings of us all.
Didn't hate it this morning, so you get a Muse Fusion poem!
There weren't as many participants in the Muse Fusion yesterday, but a good time was still had by those who did, and I feel like I got six solid stories out of it, so yay, all around.
Drafting today, and maybe some programming.
Bellydancing last night kicked my butt. Er, abs.
ellenmillion