the sparrow

you met her at
the Morrison Hotel
so many years ago.
a blind date.
more or less.
one never knows
until it happens,
she landed on a sill
of a window.
this sparrow
of a girl.
starched wings.
brown eyes, black
hair. a suitcase
that weighed more
than she did.
how she could
fly back then.
from Ireland
to Lisbon
to Rome
to me. her feathers
are still
everywhere.