The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

the watcher of skies is always there
soaring so high in the ice-cold air
we go into her cage and live in her lair
her beak is so strong, her feathers so fair
to see such a sight is indeed now quite rare
my fingers ungloved, my skin was quite bare
she knew i was safe and handled with care
my life and my love, we made quite a pair


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