All he ever wanted was to hold something tight. In his fingers, he wanted the memories to linger. Yet, any time he held on to something, he tried to never let go. Oh, there it goes again. He lost it. It was strange how these things never stayed.
He certainly knew he was capable of holding on. He decided to train his fingers, so that he would never lose things. Then stronger his hands became, he was ready to try again, it just had to stay. And he did try, he held on tighter than ever, until he felt the ice cube melt off his hands.
I’m participating in the Writing 201 poetry course. The prompt was to write a prose poem, using fingers as a theme, and assonance. So this is my sixth contribution. I’ll appreciate, your views, criticisms and comments. How can you relate to this? Thanks