The Marionette

They took her
Dressed her up
And painted her face
With brilliant colours

She became a porcelain doll
A marionette
Brought to life on stage

The children adored her
They loved to watch
Her as she danced
And they always sang along
With her mellifluous voice

She was beautiful
With her bouncy
Red curls
Her striking
Cerulean irises
And her unblemished
Creamy complexion

After every performance
She would lie down
To rest
On a soft foam
Mattress
And a goose down
Pillow
Only the best
For the young thespian

Every night
She would stare
Up at the stars
And dream
Of a world
That flowed
With elegant poetry
Like the hem
Of her gown