This is my attempt at a piece of prose poetry about fingers…I didn’t manage to include any assonance (at least, not intentionally),but am pretty pleased with it anyway! As always, feedback greatly appreciated 🙂
Sounds tumble from their tips, from a touch as light as a butterfly skating over skin. They touch down gently, then harder, before stopping upon a chord, like an aeroplane touching down. They can evoke sadness, beauty, anger, joy, love, all with equal skill. They knit single notes into chords, melodies, songs, symphonies of wordless emotion. They are the cause of smiles slipping through the stiff veneer of human composure, of tears rolling down faces and of stiff shoulders relaxing. They play the physical manifestation of frowns, of muffled whispers, of joyful cries and anguished sobs. They lend a tangible feeling to the notes they play and allow thoughts to become concrete. They turn notes into music.