The fingertips of stars <br />Cry sweet substance <br />Earth must contort shape quickly <br />Existance treads endeared allure, <br />So dream this fate forcefully <br /> <br />Take tune of emptied tongue, <br />Lonely days stretch, <br />They dance ever thouroughly, <br />Then pleasure erupts at sun <br /> <br />Hands tentatively make <br />Precious leads <br />Desiriable heart shall sail <br />The bodies blue breeze, <br />Yet unknowingly the soul poetically sings <br /> <br />Isolated inhibitant <br />Held back by emotion, <br />Laid still <br /> <br />Stained eyes <br />Gazing through space, <br />Holding a reflection <br />That instintively defies <br />The substance taking shape.<br /><br />Hannah Owens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/taking-shape-2/
