Brown sparrow

What is there not to understand in the sparrow’s song,
not the most harmonious of birds and his shades of brown
are beyond compare to the beauty of the cardinal or a canaries flair.

My heart has in its center that which is a brown sparrow,
and its wings flutter feverously, desperately trying to free my heart’s love,
if not for its cage, which is itself the structure of thine heart.

Then one day I spoke of this to a friend, and she asked me if she could feel my heart to see for herself.

And when she placed her soft hand on my chest. To her surprise she felt life in the sparrow’s wings.

She then asked me if she could see the sparrow’s loving flight.
I wasn’t sure if I knew how to show her, but I imagined to then open my heart for her to see.

At once the door of the cage flung open and the sparrow’s wings carried my love to her eyes, and to places time has forgotten.

Now I see the most beautiful brown sparrow,
and his lovely song renders tears of joy
from the empty skies loneliest of clouds.