Body Language

With the strut of the Wind,

The boundless flow of time.

Our minds tend to flutter,

With an undying chime.

Speaking through tocs and tics

Vision scattered,

Due to the chips of rocks,

Our lips of locked-

Are slipped and stopped

Before words were uttered

Of what shall not.

The unspoken is righteous,

Words steamed through the Eyes.

Such a way of communication,

Only vivid-

In disguise.

With such beauty,

Within the pretty, dark brown beasts.

The Tongue acts as swords,

Cutting o’ so deep

Fingertips,

Meeting the soft curves of Yeses,

To never seek No’s

While maybe, may be festive-

Touch, really sends the message.