The Puppeteer

by Tricia Kushen

The puppeteer sat at his bench one night
wondering the meaning of life

He neatened his tools and tidied up his paints
and listened for the call of his wife

The bell tolled to dinner
and he gazed to his children
lined up on the shelf

And thought, “There must be more than this”

He crossed from his shop and through the meadow
through gardens full of roses red, camellias pink, and sunflowers yellow

“A colorful arrangement,” he pondered stopping for a moment
but still he walked and wondered

And thought, “There must be more than this”

Into the little cottage
the short and stout man went
leaving behind his imaginary world

Though he was away from his childish toys and the giddiness of a young boy,
he still was not satisfied

A delicious spread on the table lay
of cornbread and chicken and potatoes and filling
But still, the puppeteer hoped

And thought, “There must be more than this”

The puppeteer died a few years later

‘tis blunt, yes I know…

The old man spent his whole life

And thought, “There must be more than this”

And had he searched, he could have found
that it waited for him in the garden…