if I tugged and pulled
would they come
pulled taut between lines, periods and dashes.
Good little solider lads lined up in a row. Knock one down where will they go,
to a land of not forgotten, a land beneath the sea, a land of long and yesteryear unseen to you and me.
So I stretch and turn and twist and tug and force them to be. Into their tiny mirror land tucked tight in between dominoes and marigolds and fishermen by the sea. I tried to convince them it was much more fun to be free, but the words they are a fickle bunch for it is with their ears they see. A world of shining sparkles a world unknown to me so I sit in silent shadows and watch them take form. Dancing to their master's tune like good little soldier boys.