The Five-finger Boy

In his shadow cast by the campfire flames,
Everett Troy, he realized something strange.
Look as he might, search left and right,
all he found were fingers, not one thumb in sight.

A dark pointer was there, long and true,
Indicating directions as Troy wished it to do.
The shadow had a middle finger, as always the longest.
Outpacing the others, with little contest.

His ring finger was next in the projection.
That ephemeral form, he gave little attention.
Pinky stood last, spunky shadow small,
guarding the edge of the hand with its all.

But there, far at the end was one more,
one finger he’d never seen before.
It was as if lightning had struck Everett Troy,
That he was, in fact, a five-finger boy.

The outline was clear in the flickering light,
A finger rested unnamed, unusual, but somehow right.

Where did it come from? What was it like?
Would it let him grip the handles of his bike?
Was it strong? Was it sly?
Could it help him fling things through the sky?

Did it push? Did it shove?
Would it fit snuggly in his gloves?
Would it write clean lines?
Could it help him draw cool symbols and signs?

Certainly it could do all that and more,
After all, these things were what fingers were for.

Everett had had enough speculation,
He needed to see in flesh the source of his fascination.
And so he took a look down,
To see if his new finger could be found.

And low and behold to Everett Troy,
His new finger was there, confirming his joy.
He was a five-finger boy!

That just left one last question to strike him dumb,
Everett Troy, he couldn’t find his thumbs.

~~~~~~~~~~
I did a reading of the poem and posted it on Youtube.
Here is the link if anyone is interested in hearing it.
https://youtu.be/_wct3qOuo6Y