The Robin Doesn’t Save Anybody
A poem about a robin

The sun is shining, I’m sitting on a chair
To the robin, it must’ve looked like a lair
Never did he come so close
I started to think I was on a dose
Would the robin really come to me
To show me how I ought to be?
One slight hint of a storm
The robin flew, and picked up a worm
He didn’t come to save me
How did I not foresee?
