For Iris Poem by Madrason .

Though her fingers try to reach the sky
they are not turning in to wings
when you look into her eyes
that is from where her music springs
behind the windows of neglect,
a near perfection, can she hold
the strands of here and now
-together- how
it's in her fingertips
it's in her hips
moving hence and forth
it's in her lips, when silence speaks
the bird once sang her lonely song
caged, and staged,
seems nothing's wrong
hold on little bird,
for love is strong
patient and wise
your eyes and fingertips
and your perfect disguise
can't hide those strings
not even behind wings
from something bigger
than a song can sing
larger than any great offering;
hold on little bird,
for love is strong
patient and wise
your eyes and fingertips
and your perfect disguise
can't hide those strings
not even behind wings….M