Here are some poems, composed by a puppet,

some are my own and some of them not.

You can like one, or quite like them all,

or simply not like them a hell of a lot.


x



Saturday 31 December 2011

An early morning meditation on loss...

“I’m sure I had that ten pound note”
You say, and you believe it.

T’was in your hand or pocket once
but now you’ve had to leave it.

Lying, lonesome, all alone,
its owner wanders off.

No longer to be held secure,
or spent on something posh.

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