Fingers

Fingers pound on the piano, pulling music from the strings. Sometimes I mess up though, sometimes those fingers accidentally hit a wrong key at the wrong time. Some bad sounds happen. 

Fingers grab the cloth and scrub, and sometimes I scrub too hard and slam my finger against the corner of the dresser. I whelp in pain, at least in my head. 

Then, I'm typing and type too fast, too passionately, and I look up to see all sorts of things that aren't even words, so I have to fix things, and that is somethin'. 

Then I'm sittin' there feelin' the pain of words and sadness and my fingers move to find yours. And, then I am glad you have fingers, too.