One day, the man took himself for a walk,
A sudden screeching sound halted him from his thought,
He found a crippled and dying Sparrow,
His heart and face was overcome with grief and sorrow.

Solemnly taking it in his hands:
This little bird of Sparrow died without a sound,
Took the body to his place of work,
To bury that beautiful and now decaying bird.

Upon his return a thought struck him profound,
That fatefully this Sparrow he had found,
As if by pure instinct he seized it’s heart,
Placing inside the puppet, life to start.

It spoke with his voice of what it had seen:
“That glint in your eye, admiration, what does that mean?”
He replied a little delayed from surprise:
“Vanity in my work, or love, maybe, I surmise.”

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