The Silent Music of Your Fingers

These are the nights when there are more thoughts than words could ever hope to enslave. These are the nights when restless fingers defeat a weary consciousness. These are the nights that are filled with the silent music of your fingers.

--------------------------

A digital canvas.
A black cork-board.
A picture, an idea.
A smile.

A frozen stanza,
A sketch, in anticipation.
An image in revelation,
An idea put on hold.

A mind, caught;
A body, seized.
A soul, enslaved
By your subtle strength.

A tune -- beautiful;
Slow, measured, graceful.
A hand -- steady;
Trained, familiar, graceful.
A language spoken in tune,
A bond shared in silence.
An aspiration, a hope.
A subtle dance of shared grace.

A digital stage.
A blank soul-scape.
A memory, an inspiration.
A story.

-----------------------------

I just can't help myself. It must've been the lukull dejeeling tea at Coffee Club Express. I might have been the night wind. It might have been the forgiving dampness. It might have been the warm shower. It might have been that digital tune.

It definitely was the silent music of your fingers.


JKLM