Pinky fingertips of mine,
Who translate those windy thoughts
Into paragraphs of inspiration,
Hold me closer, please.
A day of difficult communication is ending
And another one will drain my blood
Pink and gentle,
You represent me to the world.
I am a speckle of dust
Filled with ambition and clear thinking
Shivering its small size.
How to translate what is boiling in me
Into a recipe and a spoon
To feed the curious world?