Funfinger

fingers flying linguistic leaping reaping words of wondrous harvest never looking at the keys so many words appear with ease Would that I could be so good but finally I’ve understood Why I never took the time to learn to finger words so well The words the thoughts in dreams in rhyme to cause or curse To last in time are just a part to play to say hello to others on the way And there’s no way to even think completed thoughts as fast as they Whose fingers fly in patterned habit But once the lines are there to see I find the editor in me Can play along as if a song was running through the verses And the druid laughs aside with joy as rhythmic rhyme immerses The constant beat as words repeat the feat of rhyme is wicked neat What matter that the words are slow I find the joy is ever in my mind Looking at the keys in hunt and peck