The Robin –arlene s bice
One lovely afternoon, while I was reading in my sunroom
A well written story of a lifetime remembered from long ago
While I grunted, near to smile, I looked and saw a robin all a rile
He tried to nibble, all aglow, nipping at my flowers all in a row-
“What’s he doing,” I pondered, “nipping at my flowers all in a row-
Singly thus and naught I know.”
Ah, for certain I rely it was the middle of July
And each individual bloom teased that bird
I watched it closely—I had grown those blooms
From seeds and soil;–to full blown, my word—
Out of books, other advice and what I heard—
Forever now I ought to know.
And the sun continued to shine in my cheerful sunroom
Contented me—I sat and the storybook settled within;
At this moment, the passion of the story, I kept on reading;
He tried to nibble, all aglow, nipping at my flowers all in a row-
“What’s he doing,” I pondered, “nipping at my flowers all in a row-
Only nibbling and naught I know.”
Soon my reading grew intensive, pausing no further,
“Dear author said I,” your understanding I beg;
Forgive me, I was dozing, while the robin was still in a rile
As the robin nibbled, all aglow, nipping at my flowers all in a row-
“Why does he continue,” I wondered, “nipping those flowers all in a row-
I want but naught I know.”
And the Robin, ignoring me, still nibbles the blooms, gently
In my garden of flowers looking so lively and lovely;
As his eyes look up at me from time to time, determined,
And the sun begins to fade slowly from my ignoring vision
Still glued to the pages I’m avidly reading my vision
affirms exactly what I need to know!
