Looking down at fingers twisted
I think of days when they were gifted,
Pleasure from my fingertips,
I feel a smile tease at my lips
As I remember, years ago,
How much my music made me glow.
I think of times of craft and art,
At school, always bottom of the class,
Could never do things right it seemed,
As swots and scholars beside me preened,
But these hands were my saving grace
As at the keyboard they found their place.
The sense I felt against my skin
The warmth and love moved deep within
Reaching up towards my heart
Melodies promise we’d never part
Reaching out to young and old
Music’s magic would slowly unfold.
My hands have seen a lot and felt
More of life than Fate’s cards have dealt,
Brought comfort to those in constant pain,
Reassured the worried, relieved the strain,
Never rushed, simply taking the time,
Held such wonder, these hands of mine.
From a newborn child to a simple gift
However small, my spirits would lift
To be able to touch, as well as to see
Things that became important to me.
A posy of flowers, making daisy chains,
They are spotted with age, thin skinned and veined.
I hold my hands up, fingers bent and all,
Pain courses through them, be it warm or cool,
The joints are now nobbly, nails tidy and short,
But memories linger, and with them this thought:
Distorted they may be, but in my heart I know
The Magic of Music will never let go.