The Poppet and The Puppet
The puppet danced nimbly across the stage. I should say strings dragged the wooden figure across the stage. I don't think any of the children in the audience could see the strings, if they could they wouldn't have believed in them. I glanced down at my grand-daughter and smiled at her beautiful rapt attention - Beautiful to me. Her glazed eyes and lolling mouth may not have been beautiful to another, but it was to Grampa. I wasn't paying much attention to the action on the stage.
"You look like you're really enjoying the show, Poppy."
"Yes Grampa. Shush!" She said - head fixed - eyes staring.
When I looked back at the stage the puppet was sitting on a stool with his face buried in his hands. He seemed to be crying. The curtain fell.
Poppy turned to me, her lips trembling, and tears streaming down her face.
"What's the matter Princess".
"Grampa......his Momma just died too.....can we take him home......so I can be his Momma?"