The Robin
By iona
A blush of red lies at your throat Adorns the drabness of your coat. In song you stand at heavens door In warbled songs that you implore How can a hardened heart remain Without a falling tear to claim? Through weathers good or bad you sing Remind the listener of the spring Perhaps to give a faith of kind That summer is not far behind So sing my little feathered friend Hope and joy in song you lend. Faith and trust that come what may There will always be a brighter day. Written February 17th, 2002 © on Feb 17 2002 10:04 AM PST 10 • 0 • 12
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"A blush of red lies at your throat..."