I am but a group of lengthy lines
Extending from one end to another,
From top to bottom,
One point to the other,
My lines are fine...
My body is but a stroke of my maker's genius.
Sketched with extension and full intention.
Drawn so beautifully imperfect,
With soft shadows and harsh highlights.
Contouring the pain and the glory.
My lines look fine...
You may find my lines bold and sharp,
Or maybe staggered and dashed.
They may be pulled every which way.
Or tightly wound and spun around me.
They may be stretched or strained,
But my lines...they stay fine...
Sometimes my lines move gracefully.
Swaying softly to melodies of the Universe.
Swindling around in pirouettes,
Perfectly posed and poised.
They are sensual, they are strong, they run everlastingly.
They intermingle, they untwist, they are elastic.
They bend, they curve, they intertwine.
My lines are FINE.