Tuned

I flex my tired joints to keep them in tune. Although my ancient body no longer croons. My ancient fingers tap computer keys. They no longer dance with greatest of ease. The stories I create on the blank screen, make me a character upon the scene. My body is old, I feel I'm not living, but with my writing I can keep giving. My words are like music to the soul, making the reader's broken life feel whole. My writing helps me waltz through the day, and makes bad feelings simply drift away. In the real world I puff like an old car, in the world I create I am the star.