I sent for you a bird with crisp and florid wings,
but it was torn apart by a jasper-breeched hawk.

I sent for you a fish with iridescent fins,
but it was pierced by a slimy monster's hook.

I sent for you a doe with deft and knotty legs,
but it was hunted down by a cheetah sleek.

I sent for you my heart replete with ruby sap,
but it refused to go and murmured up:

"I am not a bird to flutter in the air,
I am not a fish to wiggle through the water,
I am not a doe to tap out miles of sand.

If I had wings, there would be sky for me.
If I had fins, there would be sea.
If I had legs, there would be land.

I do not need to soar or plash or dart,
for nothing ever parts me from another heart,

you didn't have to hurt
your doe, and fish, and bird."