Keyboard

A simple poem.

Letters play across the face,
fingers click for words,
the coolness of each key,
makes me type some more.

The surface is smooth,
not a natural thing,
and you can move quickly,
then see affects on the screen.

Why does touching make new things?
Do they hold a secret unseen?

A new page is turned in the mind,
the keyboard is my friend.
This is a game we play,
to see what new things we can make.

There is a new place hidden,
I can't see it yet,
I can feel it though,
I have not reached it yet.

The keyboard will help me get there,
what new world is hidden in the keys?