The freedom of a sparrow
is the air under it's wings
The freedom of the wild horse
is the plains that recede
The freedom of a choice
is the choice not made
The freedom of love
is knowing you had no more to give

Winter is ending
and I am looking ahead
Even when winter has
one foot in the grave
It's not to be a stave

A sparrow without love
is a bird without feathers . . .
and cannot fly

A wild horse without love
is a horse without a plain . . .
and cannot run

A choice made without love is recklass
and bound to be wrong

Love knowing you held back
leaves you little to hang on