12-18 The Sparrow And The Prince

from my hands,
the heart, cupped,
as a sparrow,
singing, low and soft,
into the night,
your soft brown eyes,
calling him,
calling him,
as your own,
but you've no hands,
to hold him,
you've no hands,
but feathers for fingers,
to sew as his wings,
but no hands,
how then shall he fly ?
why then should he sing?
my sparrow,
in the shadows,
of my palms,
without his wings,
how then shall he fly?
without his heart,
why then should he sing?
still your soft brown eyes,
call to him, sparrow,
they say,
palms open,
I wait for him to fly to you,
I wait for him to sing,
sparrow,
but you've no hands
to hold him,
no hands,
to sew his wings on,
I wait for him to fly,
I wait for him,
wanting him to sing,
but,
all I have to give him,
is a spool of silver thread,
and a melody,
without your hands,
I cannot fly,
without your hands,
I cannot sing,
but instead listen,
to your soft brown eyes calling,
a sparrow,
low and soft,
into the night,
hoping one day,
palms open, heart,
he answers back.