Conductor of Music

By Christopher Michel

Remarkable, rotating rolling wrists.
Unsung, director of hands,
conductor of music.

Without you,
the arm falls silent,
and hands lose their purpose.

Pen, Paintbrush, baton, keyboard, phone;
Caressing, brushing, touching, grasping.
Millions of magnificent motions,
Choreographed to perfection;
performed without applause.

Until one day,
after years of neglect,
you cry out in pain.

And the music stops.

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