To Reach
By: the iHope Poet
fingertips are hardly simple tools
upon our hands.
they do not touch or feel or reach
without a choice demand.
our ears, they gather every sound.
our eyes, each dancing sight.
our dizzy heads, they're rash
as every idle thought takes flight.
but our hands have something more in use
than mindless tendencies,
the miracle of our fingers is
they listen when we reach.
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