Marionette

I’m an old marionette,
Constructed of the flimsiest lime wood,
I was discarded from the pier of life,
Left in the mud,
Sinking slowly but surely,

A small parody of a clown,
A joke in truth,
Closer than I’d like to admit,
Faded paintwork,
No longer any particular shade,

Tattered strings made of hazy twine,
A control bar rusted by seawater,
I fear my puppeteer went astray,
Never been to an opera,
A puppet without a show,

Now the renaissance is over,
The dark comes,
I saw the sun exit stage right,
This peat will consume,
My little wooden heart.