Dearest pinky, so small and frail,

Yet always strong enough for a promise.

Friendships and secrets were built on you,

And as always, you bring them solace.

I am in debt to your stealthy strength,

For I draw on it when I am weak;

It brings me joy to see you stand tall

Even when others would break.

One day my love will dress you,

In a diamond vast and bright.

A circle adorning your base—

A token of a special night.

Oh, ring finger,

Your patience astounds me,

For I cannot rush your fate.

He must be perfect in every way—

My search never to abate.

When most see you in hate,

Lonely long finger,

I see you for what you are-

You perch at the center of attention,

For those to see near and far.

While you’ll never make a promise,

Or wear a striking jewel,

Your towering presence shows others

Who is and who isn’t a fool.

“The pointer” you have been named.

To me you’re my “number one”.

I thrust you to the air in victory—

And in fatigue you shout “I’m done”.

I crave competition, it pushes me hard.

I have an obsession to hold you high.

Through every swim, every day, every minute,

Till my last race passes by.

You stand alone to say “I am okay”.

Silly digit.

You’re there when words fail my tongue.

With brazen strength,

You grab life by its handles,

And show me how to have fun.

Your litheness moves like water, stubby thumb,

And reminds me to bend with the wind.

The dogged vigor you bring my palm

Puts all my worries to mend.