The Art Of Hands

He uses the tip of his fingers
softly applying pressure
and traces shapes of things
only his eyes can see.

Strides clockwise,
counterclockwise.
Backtracking
over a pattern always breaking-
though flowing constantly.

Five half crescent moons
form beneath the ends of his
fingers, pushing dirt in circles
creating imaginary worlds.

The light lies across his veins
twisting, turning
around and up his sleeve
and bendable, breakable
beautiful hands continue dancing
a slow waltz.

Reviews

[WillaDanvers]

I love the use of words and the story you are telling here, however it's the inconsistincy of your stanzas that irks me a little. That may be your style of writing but I guess I am used to having stanzas all the same number of sentences. Other than that, great job!

[Sorry Infamous]

I am suprised to see that no one else has commented on this. I thought the flow of this was wonderful...
it caressed the reader like the movement of his hands. Sensual, and simply elegant.