I will hold you as you held me,
You gave be shelter you gave me safety.
Said, ‘hold gently what you wish to grow old with, like a sparrow in your hands that needs to fly. Hold gently what you wish to grow old with, don't close those hands.'
Ivory fingers, porcelain haven,
Hands that tamed me, that named and framed me.
So these hands of mine that have learnt through time,
To be a lover, a brother, a father or a friend,
To try and let you fly,
To circle other skies,
To let you go,
When you need to go,
They'll be open,
They'll be waiting.

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