Tangled
Like marionettes
fixed expressions once carved
in virgin wood
always to smile or frown... or
a "Mona Lisa" grin
always to be wondered upon.
Have our strings grown
from a simple few
to too many,
always tangled with another;
tripping on thoughts and steps
that once came more simply.
What of love, when all must
magically work together?
When we fell in its quest
did we wish to be cut free
or lifted and untangled
so we may stay or walk away
once more whole?
(Inspired by Stephanie Deshpande's painting "Extrication")
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