The Tongue

Pink and soft as sponge
Yet full of wisdom and strong
Gliding and sliding as you take every word
Feel it's movement like a mighty sword

Resting in my mouth wet
Though in a manner that can be felt
It rests in the night and plays during the day
When I own it and hold the sway

As moves and probes with it's nib
It's tiny end and eloquent tip
An ancient tool wondering it's age
For it works swiftly in its cage.