There was once a house, of a great puppeteer.

His skills in the craft is noticed by all.

He would sit at his small working bench

Carving every detail to his creations.

Once he finished, he would attach the strings

In the most delicate of fashions.

It was like his creations were his pride and joy.

All were tucked away

Behind glass cases.

To only be admired, by afar.

Attaching the last string to his greatest piece.

He lifted the creation.

To take a gander.

The piece was made of dark wood painted black.

Red streaks, along long swooped quills.

And a splash upon each arms and legs.

Glued white cotton, covered its chest.

Softness being a key.

The face was delicate, a soft shade of tan.

Being proud of his work, he held out his arm.

And for the first time…

Played with his creation.

Peach hands moved lightly, gentle as possible.

To make his creation walk, gracing a smile.

When it was time to put his toy away.

Smiling as the glass case closed.

Wiping his peach hand across his azure brow.

He stood proud.

Glancing at all of the other puppets in their cases.

Some male, some female.

Whatever gender, the puppeteer will make them.

For this was his hobby and joy.