Moonchild
outside she dances/
wind prancin along side of her curves/
she swirves and the breeze wraps around her bust/
that lust literally busts/
she crys out in moves hear me groove/
it's a must to fuss these feelings/
so smooth she's smothered with thoughts/
she sings in distraught/
with her eyes so indulged/
they bulge as she prys through her surroundings/
she tries to live the life of legends/
who sought and fought for the world be their heavens/
so she hereby stand sitting out/
She must be a little tea pot her words are bubbling/
so here they come out this young womans spout/
and they sound troubling trying to figure her meanings whereabouts/
so she still talk and question till her lips & mouth turn drought/
let she continue to recognize and point out the tension/
in a dimension unyet kown to the current peoples obsession/
with not the world but techonology progression/
but she dares not stress for she knows she's blessed/
so here she dances that's me and my words in movement expressed./
Copyright © B. Maxine Revolution | Year Posted 2014
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