Hard at work
Was the man made of strings,
All the day long
Sewing his things.
But what once a job
Done in silence and peace,
Could in that way no longer be,
For the shouts of his creatures never would cease.
The pillows were fighting,
The clothes were dancing,
In no way delighting
Was the chaos entrancing.
All the stuffed animals
To and fro ran
In circles and circles
'Round the poor stringy man.
Ragz threw her bear
Repeatedly up into the air,
And the sound of Hugz happy squealing
Left Stringthing wholly reeling.
But in fear that he may fall,
The bear asked unto the doll,
"What if you throw me through the roof?
What if you throw me to the moon?
What if you throw me so high
You won't be seeing me anytime soon?"
"I'll always catch you if I do."
Said the doll unto the bear,
And continued to toss him
High into the air.
Stringthing ceased from his work
To look up at his dolly dear,
"She'll never love me."
He mumbled too softly for anyone to hear.
"She's always so carefree and happy,
I'm always so depressingly sad,
YOU ARE READING
Stringthing
PoetryStringthing, a man made of strings, Lives a quiet life sewing All manner of things. All he wants is to share His creations with all, To bring a multitude of smiles Through his teddies and dolls. But he's all tangled up In what others think of him...
