Hand Poem or Fingers Song

My love sleeps in the other room
while I mouth the words that
my fingers produce, without 
regard to tone, musicality,
or timbre.

But what if I add a chorus
to this possibly rousing 
dirge; my fingers produce,
without regard to tone.

At the piano, later, more 
like a hope, that I might 
craft a cackle that sounds 
like a joke: my fingers 
produce, without regard
to tone.

Another minute, perhaps
four, and we will score 
the brightness for its
galvanic properties,
or something chemical my
fingers produce, without
regard to tone.