The Hand

The hand

Located at                  the end of                                  every arm

On this earth for        every creature                        and man

I write for                  you and                              most times           read for you

Play for you               there are                          so many              things I do

Making many          of you                            famous                 with skill

Prosperous              future                          of some                  I reveal

I speak           for many              of those                      who                       cannot

For the            words I’ll            find                         as I                       move a lot

Closing             myself in          sign                     to show                 anger

Raising            in time of         peace,               to free                  from war

Putting      thumbs   down   to     show     I’m     not    in           favour

And        by    the    roadside  free ride     I    beg       for

My  posture;   words      I     am always   gesticulating

The       thoughts    through          my     actions

You         are          seeing      as       I

Open   myself       so          that, that

The    thumb,      the       index

The   middle,      ring     and

Pinkie        can           speak

Can’t         you            see?