winter lingers
down in the southern hemisphere
winter lingers
still we're feeling those cold fingers
spring's warm touch hasn't yet arrived here
as the days stay so dismally drear
winter lingers

brow creases lightly
piano sings a soothing song -
fingers in their turf.

we begin our reunion
with soft, sultry, glowing eyes.
then my fingers ignite his skin
until hungry, crackling fire
consumes our passionate souls.

The rose caressed my fingers.
"he loves me, he loves me not."
My eyes could only see red.
"he loves me, he loves me not."
Ready to peel the sweet bud -
"he loves me, he loves me not."

His gentle fingers grazed mine.
"I love you, I love you so."
His eyes were milk chocolates.
"I love you, I love you so."
The petals clung to the rose.
"I love you, I love you so."

my fingers fell into cinnamon buns.
the sticky, sweet icing coated my nails.
the residue - stubborn and unyielding -
but enticing to lick, making me sick.

then my lips flirted with sultry wine
that pulled me into its safe embrace,
letting me breathe a sigh of relief
as I stared into space, enamored.

the bittersweet word left my lips
but it kept the other words at bay -
the ones I could never, ever say.
I dragged those deeply rooted words,
pulling them until they wouldn't budge.
I wrapped them in my voice and let them go
until thorny feelings seized my legs
and dug into my soft, tender flesh.
my fingers bled as I separated the thorns.
they shrank, withering into the soil.
and once they did, I whispered, "goodbye"
for the second time, and I was finally free.

sometimes my nimble fingers
slide across these coarse pages
subconsciously but smoothly
as if having a conversation,
filling these blank pages
with ghost stories
collected from the sages
of past ages unknown,
almost flirting with my sanity
running off on their own
like a free bird
talking to me
'Hey, are you reading this?
Look, I'm writing poetry!'.

I run my fingers everywhere,
Well, almost everywhere.

They dance along your back in reassurance,
Seek shelter in the comfort of your own,
Press matter to matter to confirm your existence,
Wring the day’s dripping tension from your back,
And shoulders, and feet.

In the mornings they profusely itch,
Until they get the chance to text you good morning,
In the afternoons they gnawingly ache,
Until they’re knocking at your door.
But mostly, in the evenings they joyously sing,
Home once again wrapped up in yours.

I run my fingers everywhere,
Well, Mostly everywhere.

But mostly, they strain to breaking
Reaching out to you.

You run your fingers everywhere,
Well, almost everywhere.

They whisper through my hair,
Intertwine with mine in quiet times,
Comfort me with gentle squeezes,
Link behind me when we hug hello,
And goodbye.

I’ve seen the product of their delicate touch,
Felt their strength in your convictions,
Tasted the delicious meals of their efforts,
But mostly, I fear they will continue,
To keep me an arm’s length away.

You run your fingers everywhere,
Well, almost everywhere.

But mostly, you’ve just got them,
Wrapped around my heart.