These Fingers

I’ve noticed that I haven’t been wearing any rings lately; on my fingers.

No polish, or color; except for my own brown glossy shade.

I’m attracted to the plainness, the shortness of fingernail, the roundness of knuckle, and the delicate bends.

The softness of palm with blushing lines throughout

The thin of finger and tiny mimic of bone (so enticing)

Stretching my hands in front of me, and spreading them wide, I quiver..a subtle quake

I’ve seen these hands do so much….
They bake superior pies
They raise high fists in crowds
They have kept safe, the smallest of creatures
They swiftly dance on keyboard riffs

My hands play invisible pianos on busy trains
They scrub pots and pans
They paint un-sketched masterpieces
They soothe my scalp,
They baby my ear,
They nestle my thigh and massage my belly

They work diligently to feed me
They dress and undress me
bathe and keep me

These fingers…on these two hands..
They’ve done enough. They’ve done too much. Yet.. they lift me out of bed
morning. They wipe my eyes and rest my head.
They cheer and clap for me during the day, and relax my neck in the evening.

These fingers.. on these two hands.. hold my head and pray me to sleep; each and every night.