Gwen Maryland

November 6, 2002 - London

a puppets life

A lonely puppet on the shelf, 
With nothing but himself
He was left and forgotten, by the boy who was his owner. 
But he couldn't remember when it was over.
As the boy aged, so did he
He was nothing but a happy memory.

The boy no longer played with him, once he grew.
But that's was fine, as long as he knew
The boy was happy
He was bright as new

Years had passed and he grew old.
His thread has broken, his fabric torn.
He waited for the special day.
The one where all they did was play. 
The puppet waited for him to appear, but the boy had not come here.

Hours passed, the day had arrived
By the time it was 11 o'clock, the puppets' hope died.
But then he heard a sound. His owner came around
They played till he was happy as he could be
He lived a happy life indeed.
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