The Finger's Dance

Sometimes I wish I could draw
all that I dream and saw,
draw much more than words,
create tapestries of wonderful worlds;

Weave my hands and let the colors flow,
of places where I long to go,
of images that I always see
when a song catches and pulls at me,

of creatures both majestic or vile,
let my soul carry my ambitious style
and guide me to this paper pile;

where lies ideas and concepts, incompleted art,
lyrics and sonnets and poems in part,
memories and miseries and plans to make do
of all my ambitions and goals that stuck like glue

if only I could draw and create
while I procrastinate
in my times as I sit and lay with all my ideas
to release all my tensions and draw all my peers

where we dance in the meadows as our counterhearts sing
and dragons abundant dance in my dream
where mountains of gold and meadows of green
flow through my fingers with all that I see
and in my Voice it would quiver like a harp's strongest tune
on the wind it would carry till the third triplet moon,
where dolphins would play
in the Lullabye Bay
and serpents would swim
with their masses of kin,

if my hands could so pure draw
all that I saw
while I wrote all these words,
oh how I ache so it hurts
that one day my fingers could do more than just dance
as I realise it all when I take that chance.