Fingers Poem by Gert Strydom

I see your fingers
touching tenderly,
reaching out in love
and with great care

plucking at strings and chords
strumming with great skill
and sometimes setting fire
to a tune on your guitar

floating over the piano keys
touching here and there
like a butterfly drifting in the air

tapping keys on the computer keyboard
writing poetry, sometimes songs
singing them along

brushing strokes on a canvass or board
mixing colours to the exact hue
painting images from your head

spreading emotions from the depth of you
magically giving life
dancing along with a rhythm of their own.