Pick up a pen
And write away your mighty sorrows
Hear!  It’s spring!
Play the cello!
Let music fuse the rift!
Maybe plant rose
And hold it to your nose
Or fill the pangs of anger
By kneading a dough
Even slicing pineapples.
If all other fails
Do leave the hem of the dress alone
Twiddle your thumb
And let it all pass


Only upon writing this did I realize that for all the everyday things fingers do for me, this poem is the very least I can do.  Blogging 201 Poetry: prose poetry and assonance.


4 thoughts on “Fingers

    1. Thanks, when I began to write something on the post, I found I just couldn’t find anything more to comment on it, being made so speechless and humbled by our very own fingers

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