Blue Fingertips Fly

Blue Fingertips Fly

click, click, clickity-click   Is the sound that fills my living room right now.  Watching blue painted fingernails feverishly dance across a keyboard with hurried precision, being mocked by an imagination that moves twice as fast.  I cannot see the eyes of this imagination, for they are under the brim of a sparkly black and sliver hat.  One given by a friend greatly missed.  The sported pig-tails are quite deceptive, but also forever revealing.  Blue painted toe nails curl as the concentration intensifies.  I know these breaths, sighs, clickity-clicks, all sounds of birthing a story.  Not one assigned by a human task master, one assigned by thoughts that have grown too large to hold inside.  One that must be waited for by those who pace in anticipation.  The rocking has begun.  The soothing motion of deep thoughts.  Breaths grow deeper, slowing down, a momentary stare into nothingness.  Sitting back, surveying the count of words.  Scrutinizing, grumbling, sitting forward as the blue fingertips fly.  6/6/2014