And they move and move and move, each shift of chord and change of key, they move. Your fingers flit back and forth, twisting and wringing the weight of a melody from strings and strums. Your wrists writhe as they tangle with the notes that float from fingertips that exist in this box where you move, where I can see but can’t hear your music.
This was written as part of the Blogging U course. The prompt was fingers, the form was prose poetry, and the device was assonance. I really love this poem, the rhythm and sound quality works really well for me. I hope you enjoy it. 🙂