Stars are heavier than dreams--
Five fingers are enough to steal most things.
A dream I'd not yet had arrived today by post.
The mail lady stood there, licked her lips,
Said I owed her.
Dark hair is the hair I like--
You've got the Gypsy kind,
It's always in my eyes.
Rain collects at the lowest point,
And yet it comes from the sky.
Birds' bones are lighter than their feathers.
I swapped the mail lady a stone for a stamp--
She laughed and tossed it in her hand,
Then fixed it in a ring to charm the weather.
Gypsy, do you see what you've done?
With the bright cardinal in your hair,
Who sleeps and sings?
Stars are heavier, less graceful, than dreams,
And five fingers are enough
To capture and keep the prettiest things.