Every lover has a contour you just can't touch
Musical notes that echo, far away… inasmuch.
It's like trying to contain a rain clouds image
As it swings north then south, across the coast.
All hold a little bit back; behind a drawbridge.
Each, gal unheard has a damsels cry, riposte!
Enough, that'll make grown men weep, and cry,
So, he reserves making claps of thunder "high".
Mark Heathcote
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/contours-you-can-t-put-a-finger-on/
