No bigger than a wish,
He is neither jewel nor light
nor gleaming sun.
He is nothing but silent flight.
His dainty wings
span no more than an elfing’s hand.
Yet their fairy size
cannot keep your
soul from finding flight
whenever he alights.
His silent breath has no flute,
he sings without lilt or tune.
He will not rouse you from your bed
unless your eye spies the sun-bred
shine of his breast - not black, nor brown,
nor sleeping blue, just pink - no other hue.