THE BEAT OF MY FINGERS

As words pour on my sheet of paper,

I always wonder,

Where it is they are born,

How do they flow so simply?

In rhythmic arrays,

How does each vowel and adjective,

Know its place on my paper,

Whilst my fingers are rhythmically dancing,

To bring out clear outlines of how I feel,

I always wonder,

How this came to,

It is then that I realize,

That my heart,

Always holds my pen,

In every cadence that my fingers make