now, I see my fingers
tapping at keys, adding
letters, words, curved hands
reflected in the laptop screen,
light like cupid’s arrow
shot from the window behind me.
before, I’ve stood intentionally
watching my hands in the mirror,
fingers moving on guitar frets,
hurried hand, up, down, strumming;
I am impressed to see
my own movement
is something to be admired—
more beautiful than expected.
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