Cinnamon and Stone
Her cinnamon fingers moved with ease over the silky keys.
Gently nudging an old dog into her century.
Nothing was being absorbed by this rusty old mind.
As that diamond of her future harnessed all of my time.
Then it was my turn to demonstrate what I'd just observed.
My bulbous digits slowly pecked away like two baby birds.
After many ragged attempts, her patience was surely eroding.
It was torture for her, but for me those were beautiful moments.
Watching the grace and confidence of a young cinnamon rose
as she magically coaxed the shine from a row of flattened stones.
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