Grandpa Snowman Marionette
Here I sit on a wooden sill
I dream of what it's like to be real
My eyes might blink a thousand times
No longer hiding the pain I feel deep inside
Unblocking icy tears that longed to flow
On to frosty cheeks that are white as snow
Nimble fingers would release my restrictive ties
That held me captive for all my life
Capable legs would carry me out the door
Never to come back to this store
If only my heart once so cold
Would allow me to let my dear friends go
Not only is Jo's poem an imaginative take on what's going on in the image, but it's also an apt encapsulation of the challenges inherent in the 8 of Swords card.
Thank you, Jo, for allowing us to post your wonderful poem!
Do you have a story, poem, caption or other artistic take on one of Snowland's images? (You can see them all in miniature at SnowlandTarot.com, or larger versions at our Facebook page). If so, feel free to drop us an email, make a blog comment here, post to our Facebook page or Tweet us at @TeamSnowland.