Sparrow's Song

We squander our breath on useless details

burning seconds and hours and days

away from the language of love and beauty.

Touch my heart so gently.

Breathe for me.

Ghosts speak to me.

There’s no need for all this

Friction.

Once a sparrow sang to me

A melody.

A mystery.

Breathe for me, sparrow.

Breathe for me.

Ghosts speak to me.

Cry so gently for all this

Friction.

We rise from the ashes on the backs

Of our ghosts.

Their tones are black and white.

They sang their songs of right,

Harmonious in their time-

avoiding  all

Friction.

Cry, sparrow, cry.

I choose friction.