Flying Fingers
- a Poem
- by Vino
She was keying in, incessantly
Her fingers flying
Like pitter patter birds, hopping
In a cage, burning calories.
Like twitter chatter birds, hopping
On a roof, churning melodies.
Was it poetry?
That she was keying in, incessantly
The keys cackling
Like a buyer and a seller haggling,
In a market, just about to close.
Was it a contract?
She, in 7A ; me, in 6C
Between us
Four empty seats
And two windows capturing the sunset.
Vino
from Trivandrum, in Kerala, India, studied Literature and Management. ‘Vino’ works in Advertising; bridging creative and suits. And is at home with sport, food, drink, word, and people. A typeface gym rat, who loves dystopia, and the metaphysical, Vino hums a contrarian tune, round the clock. ‘Vino’s the preferred pen name as he strives to own as little as possible.
