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