Fingers In Fulfillment Poem by Elmer Romulo Valdez

Fingers racing against time,
To finish the poem of life,
Fingers become icily tipsy,
And dripping with cold sweat;
Yet with firm resolution,
The finish line is still far.

There is no time to relax,
Keep on freely moving with
A far-fetched sight and aim,
The winning post is there;
Reach for it, with those
Shaking and tired fingers.

It is just a stone's throw,
The barrier cannot obstruct,
The catch can be produced;
All is possible if only tried,
Fight against the retiring will,
Just carry on and all is yours.