My Flute

As I run my hand down the cold silver,
Holding intricate patterns,
It shines in the light,
Cold on my fingertips

It plays a melodic tune,
As I get engulfed in a new world,
Pressing my fingers on each perfect button,
Making a note to build into a song.

As soon as I touch it,
a magical tingle runs through me,
And suddenly my hands have a mind of their own,
With my flute